


an empire to be won

by bitterbones



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: 404 Ben Solo Not Found, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Arranged Marriage AU, Dark Rey, Emperor Kylo Ren, Empress Rey, Enemies to Lovers, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Force Bond, Loss of Virginity, Macbeth vibes, Marriage, Mind Games, Mind the warnings, Renperor, Smut, TFA elements, TLJ elements, unadulterated droid violence, vying for power
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-02-14 12:05:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 38,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13007415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitterbones/pseuds/bitterbones
Summary: The grin of satisfaction that split Rey’s face was utterly demented. “In three days time I will be wed to her son.” Rose blanched at the word son, apparently having been unaware of the familial relationship between her beloved general and the scourge of the galaxy.Rey chuckled and continued, “It will be televised across the galaxy, and I’m certain that she will be watching; supportive mother that she is. Tell her to look on her son’s face, and see that he is gone. Tell her that the mark she sees there is my own, that it is an engagement gift from myself. And tell her that where she failed to save Ben Solo, I will raise Kylo Ren.”[In which Kylo and Rey are betrothed as children and separated for their respective darkside trainings. Their reintroduction as adults is explosive, to say the least.]Dark AU: mind the tags





	1. Remembrance

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this prompt from Tumblr: "Arranged marriage AU where Rey & Kylo grew up together bc their families were close & Rey always liked Kylo but Kylo always thought she was annoying. Flash ahead after they meet as adults, Kylo is mad bc all he remembers is Rey as a kid, but seeing her as an adult floors him & he is confused. They have little contact before the wedding but the day of Kylo is gifted with super racy boudoir photos of Rey that leads to angsty wedding reception & naughty wedding night. Hopefully that makes sense ☺️"
> 
> (Thanks anon! Sorry it took me so long to fill this.)

When he was nine, and the tiny thing had been brought into the world pink and shrieking, he’d been disgusted at the thought that she might someday be his _wife_. He couldn’t imagine her as anything but the tiny nuisance she was, howling and stealing all of the attention away from him. He didn’t understand why she was of such importance. What was significant about such an ugly little thing? And why did _he_ have to marry her? Ben didn’t even like girls. 

 

Once he had turned twelve he took his grievances before his master, bowing before the gilded throne and pleading for absolution from such a fate. The child’s antics were _ceaseless_. Even at just three years of age she hounded him at all hours of the day, disrupting his training and waking him long before his chrono was set to ring. How could he ever marry such a petulant little creature, even if that fate were years away?

 

“Patience, my apprentice.” His master, benevolent and patient as ever had spoken unto his bowed head, “You are to be emperor some day, no? Every emperor must have an empress at his side. She is of a bloodline that nearly matches your own in its affinity for the force. Once you’ve married her, and sired a legitimate son, you may trifle with whatever harlots you find befitting of your station. Marriage means nothing to men of the sort you will grow to be, little Ren.” 

 

Kylo groaned reservedly towards the polished floor. What was the point of being emperor if he was given no bearing on who he would wed? 

 

But the young prince knew better than to voice such a qualm with his aged and wizened master, lest he want to be subjected to unadulterated agony. So he huffed his displeasure, pressed his forehead to the frigid, unyielding marble in a show of respect, and then fled the room as gracefully as his shaking knees would allow. Visits the the chamber of Supreme Leader Snoke were harrowing to say the least. 

 

When he was eighteen and the child - _Rey_ \- had just come into her ninth year, she was whisked away from the palace on Mustafar. It had happened suddenly and with little pretense or warning. One day the tiny nuisance was scurrying around his gawky teenage feet while he attempted to go through his forms, and the next she was gone. If it weren’t for her absence having a massive impact on the force around him he might have been able to enjoy the blissful silence that followed the abrupt change. He should have been relieved, but instead he only found turmoil whenever his thoughts drifted to the missing child.

 

Kylo didn’t dare to question as to her whereabouts. If he spoke her name aloud she might come hurling around the corner and straight into his knees, and that was the last thing the boy emperor wanted. 

 

For the next twelve years the girl was nary a whisper of a glint of a thought in the back of his mind. He was far too busy coming into his role as emperor and growing into a respectable man to even think of the child, _his fiance_. 

 

It was only after his coronation as emperor that she was brought careening back into his life. 

 

Kylo was buzzed. Drunk on corellian wine and some sort of moonshine from the outer rim that might as well have been fighter fuel as strong as it was. He was lounging in the living area of his apartments on Coruscant - the large windows looking out onto the glittering spires of the city at dusk - with his conquest of the night tucked leisurely into his side. Her diaphanous, gossamer gown clung to her shapely form in such delicious ways that he paid the holo they were meant to be watching little mind. The Twi’lek’s lekku were far too distracting. He toyed with the end of one between his gloved fingertips, enjoying the way the cerulean woman preened under his touch.

 

Then a familiar tug in his chest sent an icy chill up his spine, causing his body to tense and his half hard cock to soften in record time. 

 

“Are you well, your majesty?” His prize entreated, a manicured hand stroking up his chest in an attempt to goad him back into the cushions of the loveseat. 

 

“No.” He stated bluntly, standing and adjusting his black bathrobe awkwardly. Usually Snoke chose to let him be when the fledgling emperor was taking time away from the _The Supremacy_ , something urgent must’ve arisen. “It’d be best if you left. I have Order business to attend to.” He didn’t bother helping her to gather to belongings, the call was growing unbearable, the dull trum at the base of his spine reaching a crescendo as it shot through his skull with all the gentleness of a bolt of lightning. 

 

The holochamber in his personal apartments was much smaller than that on _The Finalizer_. It measured not much larger than the standard fresher, and the squeeze left little room for bowing as was customary and expected. Kylo managed anyways, his left foot pressed awkwardly against the closed door and his knee already beginning to ache against the durasteel floor. 

 

He thought he heard his front door slam shut just as the eerie blue of the hologram flickered to life in the dark, enclosed space. The sound punctuated the appearance of his master’s deformed face perfectly. 

 

“Ren.” Unlike on the ships with larger accommodations, this small chamber only projected the image of the Supreme Leader's large misshapen head into the air. Kylo looked up in unflinching acknowledgement, no longer phased by the rippling, torn skin of the man before him. “Something dire has come to my attention. You will not be pleased with the responsibility I am now forced to place upon you.” 

 

“I am pleased by all privileges you deem me worthy of receiving, Master.” His answer was robotic and immediate, conditioned into his mind through years of violent outbursts and subsequent punishment. 

 

The twisted lips of his master spread into something near a smile, exposing a row of white stubbed teeth. “You are near to thirty and one years, boy. You are now emperor to the entirety of the galaxy, a god among men, only usurped by myself; but such a position of power makes you not only a formidable leader, but also a prime target for our enemies.” 

 

Ren gulped, looking back to the steel that chilled his bare fingers. “I- I don’t follow, Supreme Leader.” 

 

“Your line cannot end if an unfortunate fate were to befall you. Such a loss in the force would disrupt the delicate balance we have worked so diligently to attain.” The old master sighed as though he had seen such events take place many times before, “The time has come for you to take your wife and beget sons and daughters unto her.”

 

With sudden violence a hundred images of a small, erratic girl with her chestnut hair tied into three messy, misshapen buns flooded his drink muddled mind. He had left her in his past, wholly forgotten to him. He couldn’t picture her now as anything more than she was then; small and mind numbingly irritating, with messy hair and a crooked toothed smile. 

 

How could something to childishly innocent have grown into anything he would find even remotely desirable? Perhaps the girl wasn’t the woman to whom his master referred, she had been gone for so many years, the betrothal could easily have been broken after such a span of time. “The woman-” 

 

He was immediately interrupted by Snoke’s withered chord, “ _Rey_. She has grown into quite the formidable warrior, and woman of significant pulchritude,” his face was split by a snub toothed smile and he mused almost dreamily, “Your children will be of a calibre the likes of which the galaxy has never seen.”

 

Ren receded into complacency and nodded, “Yes, Supreme Leader.”

 

“You shall be reintroduced to your fiance tomorrow on board _The Supremacy_.” 

 

“Yes, Supreme Leader.” He repeated, and without further elaboration the projection of his master flickered into nothing, leaving Kylo Ren alone in the eerie silence of the cloistered room. 

 

He gathered himself up and marched with dignity towards his bedroom to gather his things, though there was no one there to judge him. Kylo Ren was conflicted; a very significant part of him wanted to rant and rave at this sudden development, to destroy his apartments with his saber and take out his rage on the service droids. 

 

Such a tantrum would do little to benefit him now, and he should have expected this. Snoke had never made mention of breaking the betrothal, something Ren would have been made aware of if it were to have occured. The shock and disdain he felt were entirely of his own making. 

 

That night as he laid his head down to rest he let the memories flood him again. Despite the Supreme Leader’s reassurances he couldn’t help but dread what he might be faced with come the morning. The image of a child bride being presented to him haunted Kylo and kept him from any restful sleep. Furthermore he wondered what had prompted the sudden recall to the First Order’s flagship. Snoke had mentioned something of dire consequence, hadn’t he? Had Ren’s master uncovered an attempt to make a strike on the new emperor's life? If Snoke thought that Kylo would prove to be short lived it would explain why the ancient man possessed by the sudden urgency for Ren to produce an heir. 

 

Before he knew it, with his thoughts racing and his heart thundering in his chest, the morning had come.


	2. assassinations and machinations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo and rey meet face to face for the first time in twelve years.

The short shuttle ride from his Coruscant apartments to _The Supremacy_ was nerve wracking. Ren was already affected by lack of sleep, and now he found himself in a cramped transport and surrounded by troopers; these were hardly accommodations befitting of an emperor, but the excessive escort and the presence of a red armoured Praetorian in the posse furthered Kylo’s suspicions that Snoke had uncovered an assassination plot. 

 

The personal guard of The Supreme Leader - _Praetorians_ \- were near inhuman in their mannerisms. Kylo had never so much as heard one speak, let alone seen one step foot outside of Snoke’s throne room. This one seemed content to stand perfectly still with the slits of its crimson helm facing towards the young emperor. Ren couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being watched. His gloved hands tightened into a vice-like grip on his knees and he struggled not to tap his foot in a physical manifestation of his anxiety.

 

The entirety of the uncomfortable situation was only exacerbated by the unpleasant reunion that was certain to take place once they docked within the First Order flagship. Rey was likely already on board, waiting eagerly to meet her fiancé. He dreaded the thought of the woman. He was unable to reconcile the years passed and the trajectory of a growing girl’s maturity. He was certain she would give him a gapped toothed grin and lob some unholy concoction of her own making into his face in some twisted version of a prank. 

 

Though something else plagued him, gnawed at the back of his mind and seeded intrusive thoughts of lust and carnality in him. More so than he feared being faced with a child bride, Kylo Ren feared that he would arrive on _The Supremacy_ and be faced with a _woman_. He had never been one for relationships, instead preferring the bachelor’s life of one night stands with promiscuous ladies looking for a dangerous man and a fun time. How would the esteemed emperor react when presented not with a whore, but with a woman of significant station and beauty? Snoke had proclaimed it to him on Coruscant. What word had the old master used… _pulchritude_? 

 

Ren shuddered at the thought. He didn’t know how to be gentle with beautiful, delicate things. He would only break them. 

 

The shuttle shifted, coming out of hyperspace and slowing as the bulk of the dreadnought appeared before them. Ren watched through the visor in his mask as they descended towards one of the behemoth’s many hangars; this one had been set aside for his own personal use. It mostly collected cobwebs. Kylo wasn’t particularly fond of the ship, prefering to patronize _The Finalizer_ ; not only for its more manageable size, but also to escape the stifling presence of his master. Supreme Leader Snoke was an ancient and powerful creature whose signature in the force could be felt across the galaxy; but there was no place more impacted by his presence at any time than where his flagship was drifting. He was like a great, twisted black hole against the backdrop of the force, usurping all rhyme and reason it may have once provided his apprentice and replacing it with his own swirling maw of omnipotence and despair. 

 

As the the shuttle landed in the bay and the massive door separating the hangar from the vacuum of space fell shut, Ren thought he might vomit. Partially due to his humming nerves, and partially due to the weight of his master’s presence on his broad shoulders. Despite his weak attempt to reach out and preemptively seek his fiancé, all he could feel was Snoke’s dark power. It seemed to ooze from the very walls of the blasted ship. 

 

The shuttle opened into the hangar with a mechanical _hiss_ flooding the dim, cramped space with fluorescent, industrial light. Kylo blinked against it and rose to his feet. It was an active struggle to keep his knees from shaking as he descended the ramp and met with his greeting party. A small comfort came from the apparent absence of General Armitage Hux among the many officers that crowded the transport, he hadn’t the patience for such a slimy creature on this day that was already so trying. 

 

The men all saluted, pressing stiff fingers to their sweaty foreheads as the commanding officer of the group spoke cordially, “It is a great honor to have you aboard, your majesty.” His voice quavered slightly as he finished his greeting, indicating to Ren that he was just as fearful as the others. The Emperor’s reputation for outbursts had preceded him long before he was crowned and continued to do so in the present. 

 

He smirked behind his mask, taking pleasure in their wariness. “Take me to my betrothed.”

 

“Of course, sir- _er_ \- my emperor,” the officer bowed his head then motioned for Ren to follow a small retinue of stormtroopers headed by a second Praetorian guard, “Please, follow them.” 

 

Kylo gulped quietly, all of his pent of negative emotion masked by his visor, and followed behind the marching soldiers with as much dignity and kingly assuredness as he could muster. 

 

The walk was surprisingly short considering the size and total mileage of _The Supremacy_. It took a mere five minutes to reach the small, quaintly furnished sitting room, outside of which another _two_ bloody Praetorian’s were stationed. They stood like statues, unfazed by the presence of the emperor himself, spears held tightly in fiery hands. They didn’t move as the officer typed a passcode into a keypad on the wall and the durasteel door hissed open, revealing a small carpeted room with decorative plants and leather furniture. It seemed that his promised was near as important as he. She was accompanied by what could have been a delegation from a small planet; though they too all wore the familiar sixteen rayed star of The First Order. 

 

After sizing up her entourage, he finally allowed his gaze to befall the woman sat in the center of the black leather couch, and his worst fears were realized. This was no snot nosed, whining brat, tripping him as he struggled through his lightsaber forms and begging for his undivided attention. The creature who sat poised and composed under his smoldering stare was a veritable heartbreaker. Rey was a woman grown, or so it appeared. 

 

She wore a simple black cloak over her conservative grey robes, which would have given little of her figure away if it weren’t for the tawny belt that cinched at her waist, revealing a slim hourglass shape that left Ren wanting for more. Her shapely calves were exposed to him between where her pants cut off at the knee and her boots rose just above her ankle, but what intrigued him the most was her face. 

 

All of Rey’s baby fat was shed, traded in for high cheekbones and a jaw that could cut glass. Her lips sat in a firm scowl, nearly a pout, and her hazel eyes cut through his mask like a knife through butter. Her chestnut hair was no longer bound back into three messy buns, but allowed to fall loosely down to her shoulders where it was cut cleanly. 

 

Rey stared at him, and he at her, until the dreadful silence was finally broken by the same officer who had led him to this damnable place. 

 

“Lady Rey, of The First Order, your betrothed. And,” he cleared his throat, “Kylo Ren, also of The Order, master of the knights of Ren, right hand of Supreme Leader Snoke, Jedi killer, emperor of all of the known galaxy.” Ren was vaguely aware of the way every occupant of the room save for Rey and himself bowed respectfully at the introductions, but his gaze never wavered from his fiancé where she remained seated, resolute and watching him with equal intensity. 

 

He slowly moved to sit in the leather chair opposite her own position, only a glass topped table and a scant few feet separated the two of them. “Rey,” he broke their extended duel of wills and the entire room around them released a collective sigh of relief, “It has been many years.” 

 

The woman shifted, feigning relief at his willingness to speak, she gave a faux smile and a convincing chuckle, “It has. How many, then?” She queried, and Ren noted several officers from his escort shuffling their way out of the room now that it seemed the couple were playing nice. How foolish of them to be so easily tricked by this siren’s veneer of cordiality. Kylo could still see the rebellious fire burning behind her honey eyes; though he hadn’t the slightest clue as to why is simmered there. 

 

“I was eighteen when you were removed from the castle at Mustafar,” he mused, “twelve years.” 

 

She hummed thoughtfully, “Too long to be deprived the protective gaze of my emperor, no? Though I remember myself as more of a nuisance than anything.” The jest seemed genuine. 

 

“You were quite the trouble maker,” Ren snorted, “Though I suspect that is no longer the case, you’ve grown into a fine woman.” His eyes trailed over her form from behind his mask, hiding how he gawked openly at her beauty. 

 

Her chestnut eyebrows quirked amusedly, “Oh, you really think so?” 

 

“Well, now I’m not so certain.”

 

Another long, uncomfortable silence followed wherein they watched one another warily. Some remnants of the child he remembered remained; the curious spark behind her eyes and the mischievous lilt of her sweet voice, but beyond that the creature before him was unrecognizable; a woman both befitting of an emperor, and one meant to challenge him. Another test, he suspected. Would he fall victim to the wiles of a clever, conniving femme? 

 

Rey straightened where she sat and spoke, deep and clear with all of the authority of an empress to be, “Leave us to speak in private.” 

 

There was a rush for the door as the many officers and stormtroopers tripped over themselves to do as their lady bid. The only interlopers to remain were the eerie Praetorians, though Rey seemed unfazed by their continued presence. The guards only bowed to Snoke, they were here on his orders, and would only leave when The Supreme Leader willed it. 

 

“I suppose you know why I’m really here?” Rey slumped back into the cushions, no longer seeing a need for formality, apparently.

 

Ren took mild offense. He had thought her prickly demeanor was just for him. “Do you really think me that ignorant? You’re my fiancé. We’re meant to be wed.” 

 

“No, Kylo,” she groaned and let her elbows land on the glass surface of the low set table between them, “I don’t think that you’re an idiot, and that is only _one_ of the reasons I’m here today. Yes we are going to be married, but something else has happened, hence The Supreme Leader calling you here with such urgency.” 

 

“Well what happened?” He spat, quickly losing patience with the way the girl danced and toed around the crux of the matter, “Just spit it out already, _woman_.” It was all too satisfying to use that which most perturbed him as a weapon, though it seemed to have little effect on his intended target. 

 

She quirked an eyebrow at him and pursed her pretty mouth, eyeing him for a long tense moment. Then she spoke, a hint of exasperation slipping along with her request, “Would you pleased take that damn helmet off, Ren? I’d like to look onto the face of my future husband while we speak.” 

 

Ren snorted; “Until we meet at the altar I am nothing to you but your emperor. Speak what you mean or I will take my leave and hear it from Supreme Leader Snoke himself.” 

 

He made like he was going to stand and Rey lunged for him, reaching across the table and grasping at his arms.

 

“Wait!” And finally Kylo was in control again, “Please, Kylo, just sit. I’m sorry for being coy, I’ll explain myself.”

 

Slowly he relented, carefully removing her hands from his arms - and dreading how he longed to feel her delicate fingers on his bare skin - then lowered himself back into the chair. The emperor said nothing, only nodding slightly towards Rey to indicate that she should continue; _quickly_. 

 

“Several of Snoke’s operatives within the Resistance tripped over a plot to assassinate you,” Rey rushed, her face reddening under the intensity of his stare, “It was so near to completion that he thought it necessary to dispatch _me_ to weed out the rats. They were here, on _The Supremacy_ , waiting like snakes for the moment to strike out at you. I eliminated the threat, of course, but the fact that they managed to get as far as they did without anyone noticing is incredibly disturbing.” 

 

Ren’s face paled beneath his helm. He leaned back into the leather and his fists balled on his knees. The glass of the table began to creak and shudder along with the few framed paintings that lined the walls and the potted decorative plants. His anger was palpable in the air and the very force around them. 

“I haven’t heard from General Organa in ages,” he seethed, “How kind of her to send her regards.” 

 

Rey swallowed hard explained further, “The Supreme Leader chose now to… call in? - no that's not the right phrasing-” 

 

“He wants me to fuck you and impregnate you so that if the Resistance does succeed my bloodline is not lost,” Ren interrupted harshly, then he slammed his leather clad fist hard into the glass tabletop, punching through it and sending a cascade of crystal shards onto the decorative, Alderaanian-styled rug, “And he wants me to marry you first so that any children I sire will be legitimate. Understood.” 

 

He rose to his feet, towering above Rey who cowed on the loveseat, “I’ll be taking my leave, then.” 

 

Ren didn’t wait to hear the woman’s response, and even if he had he wouldn’t have heard a thing over the incessant ringing in his ears. Of course this was all a power play. That _was_ what arranged marriages were, but this one was of a variety he hadn’t known existed. This political machination proved to him his personal insignificance to his own master. That The Supreme Leader hadn’t caught scent of such a plot early on was unheard of, that it had advanced to the point where a force user was needed to put a stop to it was unspeakable. And now, rather than act to protect his living, breathing apprentice, Snoke had chosen to breed him like a prized stallion. 

 

Kylo felt disgusting, throwing off his cloak and tugging his dark-pleated uniform away from his body as soon as the door slid shut behind him. He was cattle, nothing more. He tore his helmet from his scalp and flung it across the empty, dreary space of his quarters, roaring mightily as the ebon piece of steel and plastic slammed and dented against the wall. 

 

Sweat dripped from his brow over the awkward jut of his nose as he stripped himself of his clothing, desperate to bathe in the water unit these apartments possessed. Kylo needed to scrub away the shame, the sense that he was nothing more than livestock. He had thought himself _special_ , had thought his powers to be a thing that never could be rivaled, not even by the fruit of his own loins. The Supreme Leader seemed to disagree. 

 

Once his path of destruction had led him into the fresher and hastily punched his desired setting into the wall beside the shower and hissed as he stepped beneath the scalding water. It burned away his shame and doubt, his fears over meeting his betrothed and his hatred of this duty he would have to fulfill

 

Anything for The Order. _Everything_ for The Order. 

 

Once he was done scrubbing his skin red and raw he stepped out, toweling off and shuffling naked back into the bedroom. He didn’t bother to turn on the lights, only cast a sideways glance at the chrono and decided that now was as good a time as any to sleep. So determined to escape beneath the sweet waves of unconsciousness was he that he didn’t notice the sealed, ivory envelope that had been laid neatly at the foot of his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I saw TLJ today and loved it! Then as I was walking out of the theater I received a call and had to rush to an emergency vet where I had to put my dog down. Finishing this second chapter was sort of therapeutic for me, he was a good dog. 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr here: [Link](https://dvrkrey.tumblr.com/). I'll be posting a lot of meta and analysis of the film there over the next few days. 
> 
> May the Force be with you, and remember, "No one is ever really gone." <\- or something like that


	3. briefings begrimed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emperor Ren discovers a not entirely unpleasant surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is where we begin to get a bit dark people. Kylo isn't always kind, though, in this AU, neither is Rey. Please note the updated tags. Also, first smut.

Rey reclined into her bath, savoring the slide of the painted, black porcelain against her skin, and the waft of perfumed steam that rose around her now clean face. She had been painted and pampered by a swarm of giggling women before her meeting with the emperor, much to her chagrin. They had filed her nails, tugged combs through her hair, waxed her legs and applied copious amounts of thick, stifling makeup to her face. When they had produced a diaphanous, shimmering gown from her wardrobe she had threatened them with all of the wrath of a future empress, and so she had been allowed to remain clothed in her simple robes. 

 

Now that her pores were clear and her sore muscles were soaking in water near scalding she tried her best to let go of her tension. It had been a less than productive day; the emperor still resented her - though she had expected as much from a man so spoiled by beautiful, buxom women - and he had stormed out of their meeting in a temper tantrum, upset by The Supreme Leader’s apparent disregard for his life. Rey had dipped into his mind as he shattered the glass of the table. He was far too distracted by his own outrage to feel her fingers skimming delicately over his thoughts. 

 

He had thought her beautiful, and hated her for it; naturally. 

 

Rey sighed and sunk further into the lapping water, letting her hands run up the slick expanse of her torso. She was wiry and lean with small, pert breasts and sun tanned skin. Hardly the sort of woman an emperor, a man of ultimate power, would find to his liking. Ever since she was a child she had hoped that she would grow into a powerful, curved creature with wide hips and heavy breasts. The sort of woman who commanded the attention of any room she stepped into. Now, at twenty-one years of age it was an impossibility. Her training allowed little body fat to accrue, and her years spent training beneath blazing suns on far flung planets spoiled any chance of an alabaster complexion. 

 

She would never be what he truly wanted; and she loathed that fact with all of her being. Rey had loved her emperor from the moment their betrothal was explained to her; even as a child her devotion had been unyielding. From her place far beneath him she had watched him train from a boy into a young man, strong and devoted to their shared master. Despite his ire towards her she had toddled loyally behind him until she was swept away in the night to begin her own training elsewhere. 

 

For years he was all she thought about as she laid down each night; her adolescent mind flooded with images of him with his brow furrowed in concentration with sweat running down his pale, broad chest as he worked through his forms and took on training droids. Through her training she was supplemented with lessons in etiquette in what she could only describe as a sort of archaic governess school. The lessons weren’t always in homemaking, much to her embarrassment. Rey had been taught - in horribly graphic detail - what would be expected of her behind closed doors; the lessons were always metaphorical, only explained to her through texts and diagrams, but it was enough to leave the girl feeling ill once the day was through. 

 

Those lessons in the carnal arts now served a purpose; she would need to seduce her emperor, it seemed, and - though she loathed to admit it - she was grateful for them. Ren was just another beast for her to tame, another obstacle to overcome. He would find her irresistible soon enough, one way or another. She only hoped that she hadn’t overstepped her bounds by leaving that envelope for him; she had slipped it into his quarters preemptively before their meeting, not expecting the outburst and subsequent dismissal. Now it was entirely possible he would think her nothing more than a whore; which hadn’t been her original intention. She had hoped to tantalize him, rile him into a state of utter frustration during their interlude, and then leave him wanting for more; only to return to his rooms and find that she had provided. 

 

She was a fool to think that Snoke would lay everything out to Kylo before the man came aboard; the duty had instead been left to her, and it had ruined _everything_. Perhaps the old master was on to her. 

 

Wasn’t _that_ a thought? 

 

Rey shuddered.

↤↦

Kylo woke in a cold sweat. His sleep had been pervaded by dreams of loss and domination; blurred images of his own withered form conquered on the field of battle, a bloody saber driven through his chest, the scent of seared flesh burning in his nostrils.

 

His dreams were rarely pleasant, but never so volatile that they woke him before the ship’s day cycle began. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and swung his heavy legs over the side of the mattress, flicking the light on and rubbing his sleep-heavy eyes with the heels of his hands. 

 

The chrono read at half past two in the morning. Ren groaned and made to rise, pressing his broad palms into the mattress behind him to push the heft of his body to his feet. He cocked an ebon eyebrow as something crinkled and shifted beneath his palm. 

 

“What—?” Ren paused, uncertain of how the single white envelope could have been slipped into his room— let alone his bed— while he slept. He fingered around the item’s edges feeling for anything he might deem suspicious, worthy of summoning a peon to open. It seemed wholly unassuming, nothing mechanical or biotic, so he broke the seal with little ceremony and shook the papery contents out into his palm. 

 

The emperor blanched and choked on his own spit, dropping the small collection of images as if they had burned him. They were grainy, black and white photographs. He wasn’t sure he had ever seen a physical photograph in person before— only images of them on the holonet and in educational texts. He certainly hadn’t seen any of _this_ particular variety. 

 

They were scandalous, carnal, foul, and yet he could not tear his eyes away from where they had fallen on his bedspread. The black duvet served to accentuate the smooth expanses of pale skin which his sable eyes followed down to a tantalizing scrap of black lace that covered her— 

 

He broke away, swallowing hard and cursing himself for even imagining seeing anymore of _her_. It was Rey in those pictures; spread out across a velveteen loveseat, wearing nothing but a pair of lacy black panties, her tits and tight, sinewy body exposed for his eyes to drink in now burned into the back of his mind. 

 

Kylo adjusted himself in his sleep pants, hissing at the scant contact with his aching flesh. 

 

He sat, uncertain and painfully aroused, chewing on his lip like a frightened child for longer than he cared to admit. 

 

Who would put these here? Why? Was this an attempt to break apart the engagement by revealing his fiancé to be a whore? Or was this a ploy by the woman herself, desperate for his attention and approval? _Was it a power play_?

 

His hands fisted in his sheets; the latter seemed the most probable. Rey was just as power hungry as the rest of them. Ren bared his teeth and snatched the prints off of the linens, shucking off his sleep pants and taking himself in hand he took in the visage of her; wanton and heady. He stroked his erection furiously over the most scandalous of them. Ren’s decision was made. He wouldn’t sit idly by and let the harlot think that _she_ held even an ounce of control over _him_. He was the emperor.

 

He panted over the picture, running a finger along his frenulum, shuddering at the sensation it provided. Rey was knelt on the loveseat facing away from the camera with her perky little rear lifted up. She had tugged the dark fabric of her panties away from her dewy lips, exposing her pretty cunt to the camera. Her hooded, sultry eyes glanced back over her shoulder, entreating the viewer to _come closer_ , like she wanted them to reach through the image and fuck her raw. 

 

 _Whore_. He thought, circling the slit on the spongy head of his cock with his thumb as he worked himself over her image, spreading his preejaculate over his turgid length. 

 

He would show her what it meant to belong to Imperator Kylo Ren. She was _his_. His cunt. His wife. _His Rey_. He could picture it behind his eyelids as he threw his head, hissing through clenched teeth; Rey beneath him, whimpering, entirely at his mercy as he pounded into her tight, warm center. Her face flushed red and head thrown, perky breasts bouncing in time with his savage thrusts. His, his, his, _his_. 

 

Ren choked and sputtered then came with a reserved grunt over the shiny surface of the image, covering Rey’s ass and twat with his viscous spend. 

 

Kylo panted for a moment, working himself through the sporadic aftershocks of his orgasm, then he dropped his penis, already softening against him, and took the picture carefully between his thumb and forefinger. A drop of his leavings dripped onto his bedspread and he grimaced in disgust. This wasn’t for him, no. He groped behind himself until he found the opened envelope and slipped the soiled image inside with a disturbed smirk. 

 

Yes, this would teach her _who_ exactly bore the control in their relationship. He sealed the brief to the best of his ability and stood, not bothering to conceal himself as he approached the wall console and called for a service droid. The emperor had no need to feel shame, he was confident in his body _and_ the size of his genitals compared to the common riff-raff who ran the blasted ship, flaccid or no. 

 

The droid arrived quickly, entering his quarters and wheeling to where he sat on the edge of his bed. Ren dropped the damp envelope on the floor in front of the paltry robot, sneering vindictively as it scrambled to retrieve it. 

 

“Deliver this to my betrothed, _immediately_.” 

 

“Yes your majesty.” It chirped, sweeping up the envelope and making a hasty exit. 

 

He laughed, then called after it as an afterthought bloomed in the forefront of his twisted mind; “Tell her I said, ‘An engagement gift for my beloved!’” He wasn’t certain the droid had heard him, but the sentiment would be made clear; he was neither a stallion to be bred, nor a puppet to be toyed with. 

 

Kylo Ren was the emperor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to update, and sorry it's so short (at least there's smut?). 
> 
> Happy Holidays!


	4. consort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A confrontation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's 4 am, kiddos.

Ren’s response arrived at an ungodly hour. It was well past three in the morning and Rey was sleeping fitfully in her assigned quarters; the climate control was excellent aboard _The Supremacy_ , a luxury that many of her previous dwellings had lacked. She had spent her childhood being ferried from planet-to-planet as she completed her training. Each place was more foreign and volatile than the last, and despite her wealth and station she had known hardship. But she had also known freedom, a sweet resonant distance between herself and The Supreme Leader, and she longed to feel it again. Being so close unsettled her. The old master was like a great, looming moon, swallowing a sun in a ceaseless eclipse. Rey wasn’t fond of the light, but neither was she fond of endless darkness; which was all Snoke could provide. 

 

She was awoken by the shrill echo of her chambers’ access panel being overridden; it was either her fiancé, The Supreme Leader himself, or an envoy sent directly from one of them. Rey roused, rolling into a sitting position at the edge of her bed and straightening out her hair in a futile attempt to right herself. In the end it was all for naught. Her future husband hadn’t come in the night to lay his claim— _not that she was hoping for such a thing_ — it was only a service droid with rusted chrome around its wheel wells. 

 

It whirred in deference and deposited an envelope on the linens beside her. She raised a plucked eyebrow at the little droid, glancing between it and the offending letter. The seal had obviously been broken previously; perhaps the thing had been ordered to collect intelligence on their correspondence? If that were true then the robot wasn’t well programmed; it couldn’t even reseal a briefing.

 

“Leave.” She commanded, and it beeped nervously as it skidded out of the room, sealing the door behind itself.

 

Once it was gone she turned her attention fully onto Kylo’s response. She took the envelope between her fingers and her lips quirked slightly downward at the slight dampness of the paper. Opened and _wet_? She should have that damned droid taken out of commission. Rey prided herself on her knack for engineering and mechanics, and was therefore usually lenient with the constructs of lesser mechanists— 

 

_Oh_. The contents of the envelope landed sloppily in her palm, and she choked on her own arrogance at the realization as to what exactly was happening dawned upon her. 

 

The single photo print was a familiar one. She had ordered it to be placed in the emperor’s rooms just a day previous, along with several others of similar composition. This one was by far the most scandalous; the one she had meant to push him beyond the brink of sanity and send him aching and aroused into her arms. 

 

Now it seemed that his sanity was certainly tested, but not in the way that she had intended. There was her image, needy and demure; her peachy cunt exposed for her emperor to see— and she was covered in cum. Not in the picture, no. She had been alone when the kriffing things were taken; she had set up the ancient recording device herself. Rather the photograph itself was coated in viscous, white semen. A power play, then. 

 

Then, just as Rey made to drop the soiled thing onto the carpet and call for someone to clean it up, a vision flashed painfully behind her eyes. The sight of Kylo Ren on his knees with her image laid out on the bed in front of him, stroking his hard, impressive length and grunting like a beast lanced through her sleep deprived brain with all the grace of a shautily thrown polearm. He pitched forward with a low, masculine whine that excited the basest corners of her being and ejaculated while furiously jacking himself. Rey winced and hissed, recoiling from where the sticky print had made contact with her skin as red hot arousal coursed through her veins. 

 

Object memory was both a gift and a curse. She hadn’t wanted nor needed to see _that_ ; though the confirmation that her betrothed was entirely proportional was certainly welcome, if not a bit daunting. Kylo Ren was a large man; in more ways than one, it seemed.

 

This also served to confirm a fact she had long been suspicious of; that she and Kylo Ren shared a connection through the force, or were predisposed to one. That one of her best understood and most controlled abilities would activate unprompted at physical contact with his bodily fluids was suspect to say the least. That, coupled with Snoke’s tentative handling of their relationship in the past told a tale of subterfuge; a tale that filled her with vindictive righteousness. 

 

All debts would be repaid in due time. 

 

As she called for a cleanup and ran a bath to calm her nerves, she couldn’t erase the erotic images from her mind. It had been an act of dominance and ownership, but not one that she found entirely distasteful. He wanted to fuck her, and that was progress, minimal as it might be. Though she didn’t intend to be another possession of his, another in a long line of women he fucked then abandoned. She needed his total trust and confidence; not just his lust. 

 

Hux would council patience; these things took time, but as she sank into the scalding water she couldn’t help but feel that it was running out. The Supreme Leader was keeping his hand close to his chest following the recent breach in security, and for the first time Rey felt totally blind. Snoke was now aware that his Order, and more importantly his ship, weren’t inviolable, and Rey was wrought by the sinking suspicion that soon enough all traitors and would-be-mutineers might find themselves headless and shot full of purple electricity. 

 

She needed to hurry. Come morning she would intercept Ren during his daily training with his knights and play the coquettish, blushing virgin she was meant to be - after she asserted herself as his _equal_ of course. Not that the thought of him finishing on her face didn’t delight her in a twisted, primal way; but she needed him to respect her for more than her cunt.

 

Her cunt which was, at the moment, unpleasantly needy. His muffled grunts and growls had sounded as though he were in the room with her; precise and clear as the slap of his hand over his ruddy penis. Rey couldn’t forget it, and if she didn’t sate this need _now_ she never would. The memory would chase her into the remainder of her sleep and plague her for days to come; until the wedding. Whenever that might be. 

 

Her hand slipped down the curve of her body, between her breasts and over her navel, tracing feather light over her outer lips before she pressed her fore and middle fingers home with little pretense. Kylo didn’t seem the type to enjoy foreplay anyways.

↤↦

The morning after his lapse in discretion Kylo awoke with a knot of guilt and shame weighing heavily in the pit of his stomach. He’d assumed much the previous night; enough that he thought it necessary to _relieve_ himself and send her his spend; coated over an image of her no less. It was disgusting and hardly the appropriate response to a scant few nude photos.

 

He ran a broad palm over his face; groaning his frustration over a plain, nutrient rich breakfast. She was a smitten child, a decade younger than he; that was all. In his lingering rage over Snoke’s mistreatment he’d allowed his mind to stray from rationality; and he’d likely frightened the poor thing. 

 

He knew her to be a virgin; that had been promised to him over and over again. She would be entirely his, unsullied by another man. His to fuck, and impregnate, to protect and please. Wasn’t that what husbands were meant to do? He’d already failed by acting out so needlessly. How much ground had he lost in the past twenty-four hours? 

 

The sight of her sex had bewitched him; and the previous days exploits had inscensed him. A dangerous dichotomy that gave way to the destructive behavior that had become typical of Emperor Kylo Ren, a mainstay that preceded his every word and movement. In a rare, solemn moment of self reflection he hated himself for it. 

 

Once he was dressed and his dishes had been carted away by the very droid who had carried his shame the night before, he made his way to the training room. Most of his knights were away on assignments, but he needed to keep himself strong. Being Emperor did not exempt him from the physical demands of being a dark lord’s apprentice, and the strain of vigorous exercise might briefly relieve the shame that hung over his head in a bubbling, despondent mass. 

 

No such luck. 

 

He was stopped in his tracks, nearly stumbling from the forward momentum of his own body as he stepped through the durasteel doors of the training facility. There, hanging upside down from a crunch bar, and clothed only in a black athletic breast-band and a pair of woefully short pants was the woman of the hour. Rey was covered in a healthy flush, accented beautifully by the sheen of sweat that covered her sinewy frame. She was svelte and lithe, her skin tanned from the sun of some planet he had never heard of, and her hair drawn back into a tight knot. 

 

Ren swallowed hard, floored where he stood, unable to tear his eyes from where she curled in on herself and released with a determined huff. He’d never found boyish creatures much to his liking, but suddenly Rey was the furthest thing from adolescent awkwardness. The woman before him was the perfect picture of feminine sensuality; from the tensing muscles visible along her abdomen, to the way her calves bulged and twitched on each curl. Where in the images she had been soft and supple, she was now steel and strain. 

 

He choked on his own tongue, unable to make sense of the odd emotion welling deep in his chest. The twitch of his cock in his tight exercise pants only confused him further. Such a sight shouldn’t have aroused him; yet his body was acting of its own accord. 

 

Rey paused, finally taking notice of the gawking fool; eyeing him from where she was suspended upside down. 

 

“Your majesty,” she sighed, breathlessly, then twisted her body along the steel bar until she was poised to land on her feet. She hit the mat beneath her with a muffled _thump_ and gave her full attention to her emperor, smiling at him with an innocence that belied cunning. “I hadn’t expected you to come so early. I dismissed your knights, I wanted to train without men gawking at me; my sincerest apologies if that isn’t to your liking.” 

 

His fingers twitched at his sides; and he was uncertain if he wanted to attack the girl or ravish her. Rey was the epitome of woman; stood before him with her small breasts bound and tawny skin slick with sweat. A perfect packaged topped with a bun of auburn-brown hair, from which a few ribbon strands had fallen loose to frame her face. 

 

“Perhaps I should leave, then.” He stammered, suddenly unable to assert himself when her doe eyes watched him so expectantly. 

 

He took a single, clumsy step backward but Rey had already covered the distance between them before he could turn away and regain his bearings. “ _Ren_.” She was close, _too_ close. Her small, strong hands were splayed over his chest, her sweet breath ghosted along the column of his throat and his heart stuttered in his chest; taking up a new rhythm that beat the sound of her name into his eardrums. _Rey_. _Rey_. _Rey_. 

 

“I got your message last night.” She didn’t sound angry or disgusted, simply intrigued. He thought he had been spared her outrage, that his worry was all for naught, until she lifted her hand and pressed it firmly to his cheek. Where their skin met seared as a depraved scene played out behind his stricken eyes. 

 

He was on his knees, furiously masturbating over an image of the woman who touched him now. He growled and pitched, and came as he rutted into his fist like a man possessed. The memory was tinged with arousal and outrage. _She knew_. Of course she knew. But how could she be aware of the intimate, foul details?

 

Kylo recoiled from her, shoving her away from himself and hissing at the loss of contact between them. He braced his palms on his knees panting as he eyed the woman in cynical disbelief, both his breath and words lost to him. She looked smug where she stood; smug and powerful. 

 

“Think twice before doing that again, _your majesty_ ,” she sniped, “You cannot _possess_ me. When I am Empress I will be your equal. I will not compromise in that.” 

 

Ren rose to his full height, lording over the puny girl before him. The beast that was his rage roared to life within him, usurping all reason with its maw and tearing through his chest in its cyclonic fury. “No!” He spat, “You will be my consort, nothing but a glorified whore! A broodmare meant to bear me sons before I dispose of her and choose a woman more to my _liking_. Are we clear, _Rey_?”

 

This child wasn’t even notable enough to have a surname. How could she possibly be worthy of the seat beside his own?

 

Rey skirted past him, moving like water as she called a distant object into the palm of her hand and swirling past him as a lightsaber spat to life in a burst of crimson-white light. He tensed as he felt the warm energy of her saber’s beam at his nape. The scent of singed hair drifted under his nostrils and his eyes gleamed with fury. 

 

“I had wondered why you didn’t keep training sabers stocked,” Rey mused from behind him, her voice oozing with an amusement that stoked the fire in his belly, “Now I’m glad you don’t. I wouldn’t have brought my own, otherwise.”

 

They stood at an impasse for a long moment. 

 

She was testing him; his tenacity and his grit. Testing his and showing her own. Rey would be a force to be reckoned with if he didn’t regain control of their relationship before their wedding night. But she didn’t want him to have control; she wanted to share in it. Emperor Kylo Ren had never been _taught_ how to share, and a peaceful abdication of power had never been a part of this agreement. Rey was to be his woman to fuck, his woman to fill, to get heavy with child and then do with what he pleased once a son was born to them.

 

She spoke again and he _broke_ at her venomous tongue, “You call me a broodmare,” she teased, “Doesn’t that make you the stud?” 

 

His own saber tore from the threadbare belt he wore and ignited in his palm before she could finish the sentence; he took advantage of her shock by ducking under her blade and whirling to meet it with a brutal thrust of his own. Rey was forced into a defensive stance, her knees shaking from the force with which he thrust down onto her. The beams of their matching crimson sabers sparked and spat between them, the embers landing on his skin and burning him as he snarled down at the girl. 

 

“ _Watch your tongue, whore._ ” He sprayed her face as he seethed through his teeth, eyes alight with the fire that burned between them, “Next time I’ll cut it out.”

 

Her pretty pink lips curled back into a snarl to rival his own, and he was abruptly and rudely reminded as to why the hilt of her saber was so damn long. A second blade shot, hissing and spitting from the other end of the hilt, and in a mirror of his action just moments before Rey took full advantage of his apparent shock. She kicked him brutally in the stomach; throwing him off balance and sending him reeling backwards, stumbling over his too-big feet as she fell on him like a raptor might a hare; swirling her twin beams with such wicked grace that he hardly felt one of them slash superficially but painfully over the meat of his cheek, peeling away just above his brow. 

 

Ren lay stunned on the floor, his senses assaulted by burn and the scent of his own mutilated flesh. His saber hissed weakly on the floor where it had fallen from his hand. 

 

“ _Never_ speak to me that way again, husband.” Rey reprimanded, her honey voice edged with fear as she called a dark, billowing cloak into her hand. She shrugged it over her shoulders, covering her body so he could no longer marvel nor scrutinize her bare flesh, so he couldn’t see the quaver of her hands. 

 

“I’ll send for a med-droid, _your majesty_.” She prodded, “I suggest that you stay still, that looks quite painful. You wouldn’t want to worsen it, it might scar.” 

 

His gloved fingers curled into the hard concrete of the floor, “Snoke will-”

 

Rey was on him, kneeling on his chest and forcing the air from his lungs. She caught his chin in her hand and squeezed painfully as her expression steeled, “Snoke will do _nothing_. What will it take to show you that he doesn’t care? He never has.” 

 

And then she was gone in a brutal twist of black and lancing pain along his face. 

 

Through it all his erection never waned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I've taken a hit to my confidence (which was to be expected following the release of TLJ, so much amazing fic has been written in just a few weeks that I can't even begin to compete with.) but I intend to keep pumping this out to keep myself going. 
> 
> Sorry the chapter count keeps increasing, this thing just keeps expanding and expanding. 
> 
> I hope everyone had a Merry Christmas, and have a happy New Year (if I don't update between now and then)!


	5. rumination and ramifications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey faces the consequences of her actions and so does Kylo Ren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6 am update for everyone’s enjoyment <3

Rey shook as she paced the length of her quarters again and again, waiting for the inevitable summons of The Supreme Leader, a meeting that would likely end in agonizing punishment for her actions that morning. She hadn’t just lashed out at the emperor, hadn’t just scarred his face in her anger. Rey had given voice to that secret which she guarded so carefully; a plan that was years in the making and so close to fruition she could wail at the thought of failing now; _Snoke will do nothing. What will it take to show you that he doesn’t care? He never has._

 

She shuddered and slammed her clenched fist hard against the wall panel, revelling in the pain— the sharp bite of her nails into her palm. Rey wanted to call for Hux, her mentor and co-conspirator in this treason, but to do so would only invite disaster. 

 

The more involved she allowed herself to become now the more difficult the confrontation with Snoke would be. She had spent years perfecting the technique of shielding her mind, but the old master was powerful and conniving, if he scented even a thread of malice buried in her psyche he would pull and pull until he reached its treacherous source; and then she would die, and her whole life would have been for naught. 

 

So she would call for Hux _after_ her mind was plundered in brutal repayment for her outburst. For now she would wallow in fear and self loathing. An appropriate reaction, all things considered. 

 

Rey cursed herself for her rashness. But why did the man have to be so damned stubborn? Kylo Ren wasn’t going to make this easy for her; his loyalty was to The Supreme Leader above all else. No matter how horrifically the man was treated he always crawled back to Snoke on his hands and knees, begging forgiveness for transgressions never committed. 

 

Kylo Ren was meant for so much more than a life of gilded servitude; an emperor only in name, a lapdog in all other respects. A pretty face to head the government, a marionette manipulated to do the bidding of a twisted puppeteer. Why was he unable to see how his talents were being wasted? He was the only heir of the Skywalker line, his inherent ability was without equal; and yet he did not lead as his bloodline demanded, he _served_.

 

Without him victory was an impossibility, her plan became a suicide mission; and if by some miracle she _was_ able to best both Snoke _and_ the Knights of Ren, there wasn’t a plan that didn’t involve Kylo ruling by her side, she wouldn’t allow Hux to offer an alternative. Chaos would ensue. 

 

Couldn’t he tell that she loved him? Wanted him more than anything? Had touched herself with his visage painted across the backs of her eyes since she was a teenager only just? She wanted to save him, to spare him the agony that their shared master induced and rule the galaxy at his side, as his wife, his lover, his _equal_. 

 

...but just that morning she had maimed him. Left a thick, black-red burn across his handsome, oblong features. A mistake. One she was certain to pay dearly for; both in pain and in progress. 

 

For now she remained the broodmare in his eyes; he’d made that abundantly clear during their confrontation. Though he was beginning to bend in _some_ ways. She’d practically preened when she’d seen his erection outlined against his exercise pants; an erection that he’d maintained throughout the entirety of their unfortunate encounter. He begrudgingly found her attractive, and it confounded him, left him groping for an answer as to _‘why?’_ Rey wasn’t his usual fare, and his arousal over her was something she could work with, use to her advantage in the days to come. 

 

He’d experienced his first taste of their shared connection when she’d touched him, she had felt the pain it caused just as vividly as if it were her own; and the vision that had flashed behind his beautiful, dark eyes wasn’t one she had forced on him. 

 

Rey had seen something too, as she burned at the feel of his soft skin, she had seen a flash of the future. It was brief and shadowed, she hadn’t had the time to truly _see_ it, but it’s silhouette was now branded into her consciousness. She longed to see more of it, to touch him again and breathe in all that he could offer. 

 

Rey could only hope that he too was choking on the smoke of the inferno she had so clumsily ignited. 

 

There was a knock on her door, three curt raps in quick succession. Rey took a steadying breath, steeled herself, and made to let her torturers take her away.

↤↦

Ren reflexively clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides as the medical droid dutifully applied a microweave bacta bandage along the jagged cut of his fresh wound. The smell of his own burnt flesh still lingered in his nostrils and clung to his hair.

 

Once the procedure was complete the droid back away and beeped affirmatively before speaking its preprogrammed line; “The initial treatment is complete, please return in twenty-four standard hours for secondary treatment to minimize scarring.” 

 

Ren huffed in acknowledgement and rose unsteadily to his feet, carefully adorning his mask over the wound. All day he had felt unbalanced, uncertain of his position in an environment of the third dimension. He had returned to his quarters before seeking treatment, still alight with the little witch’s touch he had attempted to scrub it from his skin, but that had only intensified the sting of his physical hurts. 

 

Kylo stopped to lean in the doorway of the med-bay, pinching the bridge of his nose as he attempted to right himself before continuing towards the turbo-lift.

 

He blamed her for all of this; the wound, the ceaseless vertigo, and the turmoil that now toiled heavy and painful in the pit of his stomach. She was ruining him and he hadn’t even been aboard _The Supremacy_ for two full day cycles. How was he supposed to spend the rest of his life with this woman hounding him, haunting both his waking hours and disturbing his sleep? Perhaps he wouldn’t be required to, not after her outburst in the training room. 

 

Now, hours later, he felt the familiar, stomach-churning tug of his master’s summons. Justice would be doled out, _finally_. He smirked as he punched his personal code into the wall panel, overriding his previous command and sending the elevator hurtling towards Snoke and absolution. It had been hours since the girl’s indiscretion had occurred and Kylo Ren was eager to see her cast back into her place within the hierarchy of their budding government; a station well beneath his own. 

 

He was the Galactic Imperator, the emperor, the face and orator of Supreme Leader Snoke himself. _No one_ attacked Kylo Ren and escaped unscathed. 

 

Upon stepping into the crimson throne room Ren was filled with a smug sense of satisfaction to find Rey already knelt before the ebon dais. She was no longer clothed scantily, much to his relief. Now she wore her simple grey robes, conservative and bearable for the time being. 

 

“Kylo Ren,” his master’s deep, creaking chord greeted him, “How pleased I am that you have finally arrived, I had hoped you might bear witness to my _interrogation_ of your fiancé.” 

 

Ren positioned himself diagonally behind Rey before he too took to his knee, placing his lightsaber on the reflective floor before him in a silent show of respect and deference. 

 

“What do you say, apprentice?” His master gave a breathy laugh. 

 

Ren glanced sidelong to the woman in question; she didn’t so much as blink under the scrutinization. Unrepentant, then. “It would please me greatly, master.” 

 

She still didn’t flinch. 

 

A wide, terrible grin split the old master’s face and he stood up from his sleek cut throne, raising a single, spindly fingered hand and lifting Rey off of the ground, forcing her from her genuflecting pose into one of unnatural rigidness. 

 

“Come, girl. Let me look into your mind.” Her decent was only stopped by the press of a disfigured palm to her forehead and knotted digits curling against her skull. Ren held his breath as she winced at the contact. “Show me what transpired.” 

 

Rey wasn’t provided the chance to show him, instead he _took_ what he desired. She was thrust backwards and into the open air between Kylo and his master, her back bowed at a painful angle as The Supreme Leader drew out her suffering. Her teeth bared at nothing in particular and she let loose a long, shrill screech from deep in her chest at the agony of being plundered so ruthlessly. 

 

Ren bowed his head, unable to watch, overcome by a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea at the sound of her agony. _He didn’t want this_. He was helpless to make it stop. 

 

And then it was over. Rey was dropped unceremoniously onto the polished floor and she landed with a gut twisting _thump_ accompanied by a feminine whimper that appealed to Ren’s most base instincts. He wanted to protect her, Force only knew _why_. But it was too late, the damage was done. It was over. 

 

Or so he thought. 

 

The old man sunk back into his throne and then— “Ren,” suddenly his master’s attention was focused on him and him alone, “Come. I would see it through your own eyes now. I trust you far more than a child raised so far from my reach.” 

 

Ren took a sharp, steadying breath and rose, managing to keep his step from faltering as he approached the dais. Snoke didn’t touch him, the old master had no need to; he was already buried deep within Kylo’s mind. He knew his apprentice’s every thought, every desire and whim. 

 

The exchange of information was seamless and painless, a far cry from what Rey had been subjected to. When Snoke opened those icy, unfeeling eyes he smiled in satisfaction, having been supplied with all he needed. Ren quickly resumed his previous position of subjugation. 

 

“The girl is pathetic, Ren.” He explained, “She wants you _so_ desperately, but is unable to obtain your affections,” he gave a chuckle that was near to giddy, “She fancies herself _in love_ with you; oh, what a fine empress she will make once you break her of her spirit.” 

 

He looked between the two for a long, tense moment, and then the crooked, snub toothed smile began to slip from his pocketed, malformed face, “Oh, but you are not without blame yourself, Kylo Ren.” 

 

Ren choked behind his mask, keeping his eyes set steadfastly on his reflection in the floor. What had he done to cause such displeasure? He could feel the disappointment and outrage roiling off of his master in heavy, black waves. 

 

“Take off that ridiculous mask!” Snoke spat, rising up from his throne again in a show of ultimate power and force, “Bare to me your shame so that I might make you see that which you are blind to; your own pathetic weakness.” Each word he spoke was punctuated with cruelty and malice. 

 

Ren raised his head to look the old master in his cold, unflinching eyes. The creature’s gaze did not waver and carried no semblance of sympathy or mercy. Slowly and with shaking hands Ren disengaged the locking mechanisms on the sides of his mask. The resounding _pop_ and _hiss_ made Rey flinch where she had managed to angle herself back onto her quaking knees. 

 

Kylo lay the mask carefully beside his saber, taking a moment to stare at his own pathetic reflection before his gaze strayed back onto Snoke in his gilded robes. 

 

“You were bested by a girl,” Snoke began, his rough voice low and seething, “ _A child_ a decade younger than yourself and who was never graced with my personal guidance. You allowed yourself to be tricked by womanly guile, and were put on your back by a creature who should be but an infant to you!” 

 

“I—”

 

“You failed! You aren’t worthy of the seat I have so generously given you, you aren’t worthy to be addressed as heir apparent to _Darth Vader_. You have learned _nothing_ from me. You are just a child in a mask.”

 

His vision turned bloody and he leapt to his feet, calling his saber into the palm of his hand— 

 

Violet lightning shot through the air, encasing his body, coursing through him with virulent ferocity and sending him careening over the slick floor. 

 

“Fool!” Snoke’s bellow shook the very makings of the ship, and _The Supremacy_ creaked and groaned around them in ardent complaint, “Leave my sight at once; meditate over this failure and return to me with renewed strength upon your wedding day Kylo Ren. Do this or be replaced by the one who has bested you,” Ren’s sable gaze shot to Rey where she rose uneasily to her feet, “You have one week.” 

 

Final. The Supreme Leader would hear no plea for mercy, no petition for forgiveness. Both Kylo and Rey stumbled towards the turbo-lift where it waited for them, still pained from their respective torturings. 

 

Once the doors had sealed and they were safely obscured from Snoke’s gaze they stood stiffly and quietly; each blaming the other as the space between them buzzed with some unnamable emotion. 

 

Ren felt ill, shaken to his very bones by the lament of his master. Not worthy of being named Vader’s heir? His heart seized in his chest and his fingers dug into the dome of his mask. Then, with little ceremony or regard for the elevator’s other occupant, he shattered. 

 

In a fit of cyclonic rage and indignance he slammed his helm hard into the glass and steel paneling of the wall, snarling as it dented and bent. It wasn’t enough, it would never be _enough_. No matter his actions, no matter his loyalty, no matter how much he would sweat and bleed he would never be what Vader was. He would always be just— _just_ — 

 

 _A child in a mask_. 

 

The black and silver shattered into a thousand pointed shards between his fist and the unyielding wall panel. He roared in victory and defeat as he let what little remained of it drop to the floor, and as the doors swept open, revealing his deed to a frightened retinue of First Order personnel, he cast one final sidelong glance at his betrothed where she stood unflinching in the lift. 

 

She didn’t appear afraid or weakened by what she had just witnessed. Rey looked emboldened, and returned all the fire of his stare with twice his own intensity. 

 

He turned his back to her and fled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I officially killed the chapter count because I have no idea how long this will be. 
> 
> Also, I will continue to pump this shit out, my own petty insecurity be damned. 
> 
> Please do tell me what you think!!


	6. filthy absolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The situation comes to a head. (Enter Hux)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING; there is a sexual situation in this chapter during which consent is not given. Further details in the end notes. 
> 
> Song for this chapter: Love Bites by Halestorm

Rey collapsed through the doors of her quarters, finally allowing herself to outwardly express the pain that still wracked her body. Snoke had not been gentle in his thorough pillaging of her mind. Keeping him from her deepest, most well kept secrets had drained all of her energy. Her head throbbed and her joints ached insistently. 

 

Snoke _had_ seen the most incriminating words she had spoken that morning; she hadn’t tried to hide it. Doing so would only have increased the severity of her punishment when Snoke looked into Kylo’s own mind. 

 

The old master had said nothing to her; but he had planted seeds of jealousy and ambition in Ren’s mind by threatening the young emperor’s position. By making Rey out to be not only his possession— reinforcing Kylo’s perception that Rey was a feral animal to be broken and tamed— but also an individual who could theoretically take Kylo’s place as Imperator, Snoke had made Rey’s job infinitely more difficult; whether he knew it or not. 

 

She suspected that the wrinkled old bastard now had some clue as to her disloyalty, though he didn’t know the true extent of it, he couldn’t. If he did Rey would be ashes on the polished floor of the throne room. 

 

She clenched her fists and slid down the back of the door, exhaling violently through her nose. Her insides were wrought in a swirling mass of indignation, anger, confusion, and utter embarrassment at her lapse in judgement. 

 

“Rey?” A familiar, nasal voice met her burning ears and she leapt clumsily to her feet, fumbling for her saber where it was clipped at her side. 

 

In her weakness she was all predatory instinct, not taking the time to recognize the voice of her co-conspirator, the voice of the man who helped to raise her; the only constant throughout her childhood besides the idealistic visage of Kylo She had so desperately clung to. 

 

Her saber spat to life in her palm, the crimson beam of it flashing fire against the smooth, pale skin of General Armitage Hux’s throat. 

 

He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose and froze, icy eyes meeting her own over the sparking slash of the beam. 

 

“ _Rey_.” He hissed in tight-lipped warning. 

 

Her pupils expanded from the pinpricks they had shrunk into, and she slowly lowered the saber, sheathing it and clipping it back at her waist with a heavy, apologetic sigh. 

 

“Hux…” she breathed in relief. Assassins _hadn’t_ been sent to finish her after all. “I suppose you’re here to talk my ear off, chastise me for jeopardizing our situation?” 

 

Hux tutted and made for the black velvet settee that sat adjacent to her bed, motioning for her to follow; “No,” he said curtly as she sat beside him and rested her head on the stuff back of the furniture, “Not for your slip up this morning, at least. I know you just returned from an… _audience_ with The Supreme Leader. That should have been discipline enough.” 

 

He shuddered and Rey nodded then threw a heavy arm over her eyes, “Lesson learned. I grew too confident, too eager. I got ahead of myself.”

 

“I know.” Hux offered. 

 

They sat in comfortable silence for a spell. Hux giving her a scant few moments to recover before he continued; “You’re getting sloppy, Rey. Too comfortable in your position, complacent now that you’re away from the outer rim.” 

 

Rey’s lip curled in piqued irritation but she didn’t react, knowing it was best to let Hux vent his own frustrations before she went on the defensive. 

 

“Your… _minor indiscretion_ this morning is only the most recent example.” He ranted, “You’re acting far too flippantly with Ren, it’s only been two days an already you’ve damaged the relationship to a significant degree. Slow down. There was never any hope of recruiting him before the wedding, besides. You also have failed in vigilance, in your desperation to defend Ren from assassination you haven’t minded your own retinue. One of your handmaidens— Rose is her name— is a Resistance plant.” 

 

Rey blanched. 

 

“You’re fortunate that she isn’t an assassin. She was only sent to monitor you and your relationship with Ren. But my point still stands; she’s been clumsy, and _you_ of all people should have caught on to her deceit. Dispatch her on your own time, she’s found nothing of significance and never will. And, finally, multiple of our agents have been discovered; I handled the situation through several swift executions, but I digress; I’ve been attempting to inform you of these developments, but you haven’t been checking your messages.” 

 

“I—” She stuttered, leaning forward to rest her forehead against her hands. She groaned in exasperation and confounding frustration. She had no adequate explanation for her actions over the past days and weeks, no snide comment to riposte Hux’s criticisms. He was correct on all counts. For a spy to sneak into Rey’s own inner circle was proof enough of that. 

 

“No excuses.” Hux bluntly interjected her weak attempt to explain her pathetic failures, “You’ve become infatuated with what you think Kylo Ren to be, the image of a valiant emperor that you’ve painted in your pretty little head. So obsessed, you are, that you’re shirking all other duties and responsibilities. You’re being a fool and you’re going to get us both _executed_.”

 

Rey shot a piercing glare at the man, one he returned with equal intensity; “I have _not_ —”

 

“Yes you have.” He preempted. “You’ve built your image of Ren up to such an extreme degree that it would be impossible for _anyone_ to live up to! Let alone a bumbling idiot like him.” 

 

He gave pause, leaving Rey time to object to his observation. Instead she chose to weather it, to hear him out completely no matter the unpleasantness of the subject matter. If he were another man she might think him jealous, but she knew this tirade was drawn from an almost brotherly sense of protectiveness over her. She had been thrown at Hux when she was only nine, and he had seen her through many years of arduous training. Of course he felt obligated to protect her now. 

 

“You think him wise when he is merely a fool. You think him a leader when he is nothing but a pawn. You think him powerful when he falls so easily beneath your—”

 

“Stop!” Rey seethed, her decision to hear him out quickly evaporating at the sudden shift of focus. Hux could criticize her all he liked, she was used to it after so many years, but she wouldn’t hear such slander spoken of her betrothed, not over matters Hux couldn’t begin to fathom. “He is _everything_ I thought he was, it’s just buried under mountains of conflict and self hatred imposed on him by Snoke. He will be the greatest ruler the galaxy has ever seen, with—”

 

“With _your_ guidance, perhaps?” Hux snarked. 

 

“With me, _by his side_. As his wife, his—”

 

“Partner? No. You’ll be his keeper, a glorified babysitter, forced to contend with his endless draw towards the light and the ceaseless stream of women he uses to cope with his own inadequacy.” Hux stood curtley and straightened his collar like he was making to leave. “He is weak, Rey.”

 

Rey followed the man in standing, drawing close to look him in his cynical, grey eyes. “We need him, Hux. If he remains loyal to Snoke then we not only have to contend with the two of them and the Praetorian Guard, but also the Knights of Ren. You could command your entire legion to attack— if they don’t choose to follow Phasma instead— and they’d be left a bloody mess on the battlefield, razed by a small but elite band of killers,” she paused and watched as Hux relaxed back into his boots, nodding in reluctant acknowledgment of her point, “And as for the light in him, I’ll cull it. He longs for totality, when he needs internal balance. I can provide it to him. Snoke wants him to be at odds with himself, it weakens his mind and allows him to be controlled. I can lead him to uncover the true potential of his bloodline. He will become The Supreme Leader, and with me by his side, he’ll be _unstoppable_.” 

 

Hux shook his head in incredulity, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose in utter exasperation, “Just promise me that you’ll gather yourself, Rey. I’d like to keep my head attached to my shoulders.”

 

Rey allowed herself to relax as the general relented and rested a reassuring palm on the well tailored shoulder of his uniform, “Don’t fret, Arm. You won’t be beheaded while I still breathe.”

 

Hux held his officer’s cap over his heart as he gave a stiff bow of respect and salutation.

 

“That’s what frightens me,” He breathed, and moved swiftly for the exit. 

 

“I’ll take care of the plant!” Rey called after him as she sank back into the settee to nurse her migraine in sweet solitude. He didn’t respond.

 

Not five minutes later her door squealed with the shrill tone of a manual override. Absolution had come clad in all black and punctuated by an angry red scar, it seemed.

 

↤↦

 

It wasn’t the proximity to Rey’s quarters that implored Ren to confront her. 

 

After his well deserved punishment, doled unto him for his ceaseless weakness, Snoke had reached into his mind to taunt him further. The Supreme Leader stoked and tugged and pulled at his memories, invoking such a sense of chagrin that Ren could only curl in on himself and gasp. After each incident played out behind his eyes the healing slash across his face would pulse and burn beneath the mircoweave. 

 

 _To ensure that you have learned from this experience you are not to seek further treatment_. Snoke had commanded once he was finished with the harrowing tormenting of his peon. _You will allow it to scar, and every time you look upon your own reflection you will remember that a woman has done this to you, Kylo Ren. And you will never be lulled into complacency by feminine wiles again_. 

 

Ren had cursed and shattered his own mirror after peeling away the bandage, savoring the burn and flow of blood as his knuckles were torn open by the glass. He hadn’t considered himself handsome to begin— his nose was too long, lips too plump, eyes set too deep and curved oddly in his skull— but now he was deformed. Marred with the evidence of his own deficiency. The scar was an outward representation of his internal brokenness. 

 

_Now you must reclaim your dignity, my dearest boy. Make the whore ache just as you have. Break her. Mark he as yours._

 

The swell of vindictive fury in his chest wasn’t entirely his own, he recognized that in the briefest moment of self reflection, but his master knew better than he. So Ren embraced the sustenance Snoke provided and raised himself from the tiled ‘fresher floor; he fostered the rage, kindling it until the inferno that consumed him was his alone, and moved decisively for the door. 

 

He couldn’t have offered an alternative to his master even if he had desired to; his connection with the creature was wholly one-sided. Snoke commanded, Snoke took, Snoke gave. Kylo obeyed, Kylo provided, Kylo accepted humbly all those gifts he was deemed worthy of. 

 

In the sterile, bustling, climate controlled halls of the _The Supremacy_ Emperor Kylo Ren was a spectre. A wraith whose path was not to be obstructed lest one longed to taste the burn of their own, frying flesh on their gasped final breath. None stood between him and his destination, no one was fool enough to. They would shuffle to the side and bow in deference and reverence for their honored Imperator. 

 

All First Order personnel did this, save for one bothersome, prideful little general. _Armitage Hux_. Just the utterance of the name was enough to bring an acrid taste to Kylo’s mouth. 

 

So now, as he strode maskless and confident towards his fiancé’s rooms, he nearly squawked in disbelief as he watched that very man step out of Rey’s quarters and make off in the opposite direction in his usual stiff legged, pompous gate. 

 

Ren stalled, his mind reeling as he watched the petulant ginger disappear around a corner. What business did that _cur_ have with Rey? 

 

The deep, throbbing vexation that boiled into his throat and reddened his vision was no longer spurred by righteous fury and a desire for the reclamation of lost dignity. Instead he was overcome by a violent vengeful emotion that he could neither place nor name. 

 

The thought of that— _that rabid dog_ of a man laying hands on what was _his_ , made his fists ball and shake at his sides with the barely contained desire to pummel and destroy. No matter how independent Rey thought herself, no matter how free spirited and stubborn the girl might be, she would not make a cuckold of him by lying with another man on the side. No wife of Kylo Ren’s would. He’d slaughter any man who so much as cast a sideways glance in her direction. 

 

He didn’t bother to announce his entrance, only slammed his personal code into the wall panel and crashed into her small apartments. 

 

Rey was resting on her loveseat, her head thrown over the back. She was watching him apathetically, and hardly looked like she had just been involved in an adulterous tryst. There were dark circles under her tired, hazel eyes and her musculature was tensed in discomfort. The remnants of their shared torture still clung to her as they did him. 

 

“What now?” She groaned, running a palm over her fine features. 

 

“Why was that depraved, little wretch in your quarters?!” He seethed, striding to stand over her where she lay, “You would let another—”

 

“Let another man touch me?” Her mocking chuckle made his nostrils and temper flare, “Hux didn’t touch me, and I don’t want him to. He helped to raise me, Kylo. We confide in one another on occasion, like siblings might.”

 

He didn’t believe her, “A likely excuse,” he groped at her, grasping under her armpits as she struggled and squealed. He hefted her up into the air. 

 

“Put me down!” She spat and kicked at his abdomen, but he hardly noticed as he observed her pretty, youthful face. 

 

He shook his head slowly, an idea taking shape that would satisfy both his desire to claim and his task of vengeance. 

 

Ren heaved her onto the wide bed, “Take off your clothes.” He commanded as his fingers deftly unclasped the belt that held his tunic in place. 

 

“Absolutely not!” Rey snapped, sidling backwards up the bed until her lean shoulders made contact with the headboard, “You want proof of my maidenhead?! Wait until our wedding night you— _you banthashit_!”

 

“That’s okay,” Ren sneered, tugging his half hard cock free from his trousers and stroking it as he climb up the bed after her, “I don’t need to fuck your cunt to make you mine.” 

 

“I’m not taking my clothes off.” She wouldn’t look at him, would look at anything _but_ him. Her cheeks were flush with embarrassment. Was she insecure about her body? That was ridiculous, he had seen plenty of it that very morning, sweaty and lithe. She was a fine creature. 

 

“You don’t have to, just lie down and hold still.” He snapped, grunting as he worked himself into a state of full arousal. 

 

She scooted back down the mattress reluctantly until she was flat on her back. Ren positioned himself on his knees over her chest with his heavy member bouncing over her pretty, pink mouth.

 

“Look at me.” He demanded, when she didn’t react he insisted, bumping the spongy head against her cheek, “Look. At. Me.” 

 

She did, her eyes trailing slowly, hesitantly down from his face; tracing his scar and roaming over his clothed chest all the way down to his erection where it throbbed and pulsed over her face. 

 

“Don’t move. Don’t speak. If you do I’ll make you hurt.” He snarled and began to jerk himself over her, rubbing a pearly bead of his precum along his stiff shaft. 

 

“You’re mine, Rey,” he growled and tugged, “None of this would be necessary if you would just give in, accept the— _hnn_ — accept the fate that was chosen for you, sweet girl.” 

 

Her lips parted and she blinked, her brow furrowing in a show of innocent curiosity as she watched him pleasure himself. Her tiny tongue darted out to wet her lips and he choked at the sight. Suddenly certain that she was, in fact, a virgin. Just as he had been promised, just as she had claimed. 

 

His hand sped up on his shaft as the pressure built in his balls and the base of his spine began to tingle. His face must’ve given him away, because Rey whimpered, eyes never straying from his cock. 

 

“Please don’t—”

 

 _—come on my face_ , Kylo knew what she meant to say before she finished her sentence, and her plea sent him reeling over the edge. He gasped and groaned, his back arching, and then he hunched over her rutting brutally into his fist as he shot his spend over the planes of her face. 

 

She winced as the white hot streams hit her skin, and the tears that swelled in her honey eyes only made him come _harder_. Rey was the perfect picture of a woman broken, a cum covered slut cowering in fearful submission. 

 

“Fuck!” He gasped as he finished himself off with a few more quick jerks, then let his cock drop from his fist. The softening head bumped Rey’s lip and smeared his semen across the plush skin. She cringed again and looked away. 

 

He smiled down at her, satisfied with his handy work. She shut her eyes tight and remained still. Her face was a mess of milky white lines and drips. Beautiful. 

 

“An engagement gift,” The slash pulsed across his face as he jested cruelly. 

 

He was too boastful to leave her immediately; his dignity was reclaimed, her face was marked with his lust just as his was marked with her insubordination. Both of them were flawed by hubris, and both of them had paid the price. 

 

Then the girl sat up, throwing him off balance and pressing his soft penis awkwardly between her abdomen and his own. She crushed those supple, cum coated lips to his own, prying his full mouth open with a quick tongue and forcing his own spend into his mouth. 

 

Rey pulled him down onto her, keeping their lips locked in a mockery of a kiss as she tangled her fingers into his dark tresses to prevent him from pulling away. 

 

The minx bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, then gave it a deep suck, moaning as she tugged away with it still trapped between her teeth. Finally he swallowed his leavings, and she let go with a wet _smack_ , smirking as she rolled out from under him and swiped at her face with her robes. 

 

“Thank you, your majesty,” She goaded, “I’m glad to have pleased you.” 

 

He fumed and fumbled his penis back into his trousers, beating a hasty retreat as her prideful eyes watched his every move. 

No, she wasn’t happy with this. She hadn’t wanted it. This was an act, a veneer that hid barely contained fear and shame. He could feel it quivering beneath the surface, ready to burst as soon as he left. 

 

He didn’t speak a word, not until he reached the door and it slid open to allow his escape, “Now we match, Rey.”

 

She tensed, and he laughed as the doors slid shut behind him. 

 

Kylo had won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: Kylo jerks off onto Rey’s face, and she doesn’t enjoy it. 
> 
> For all of those who decide not to leave after this update (I totally understand if you do, dark fic isn’t for everyone) please do comment! 
> 
> Also if you like this you’ll love Noli Me Tangere by Poetshrotvitha (as if you all haven’t read it already lmao) hit that up. 
> 
> I’m posting this as I’ve been sitting in a car for five and a half hours, still have around two hours to go. Send help.


	7. connected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey flashes her claws and the force intercedes on all of our behalves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dabs into existence* i hate this *dabs into the end notes*

Rey burned where his seed soiled her skin, across her face and beneath her eyes. Her flesh pulsed with shame at what she had allowed to take place. 

 

She scrubbed her face raw in the following hours, wishing she had a pumice stone to peel away the upper layers of her dermis and cleanse herself wholly of the carnal act that had been forced onto her. 

 

The world spun and pitched as she threw her soiled clothing into the waste receptacle where they would be incinerated with the rest of the trash. It was a terrible shame, she had liked those robes. But they had been witness to a crime that she longed to forget, and object memory wasn’t a skill she could ever fully master. The event had been so emotionally charged and not one, but _two_ Force users had been party to it. The probability that they had made an impression on her outfit was unsatisfactory. She would rid herself of the entire bed set if it weren’t likely to draw attention to her for _eccentric_ behavior. 

 

Her center of gravity remained altered in the coming days, and she began to wonder if Ren was infected her with some venereal disease of the inner ear. In an unpleasant mix of ceaseless, vertigo-induced nausea and fear of seeing her _beloved_ she hardly left her quarters, refusing to take any visitors in her self imposed isolation and only accepting meals from the service droids that frequented the halls. 

 

Three long, aching days passed in this manner. She hardly left her bed, and her skin still stung where he had spilled his domination onto her. Rey might as well have been aboard a sea freighter for all the trembling and rocking she felt as she lay beneath the thin sheet. The sheen of cold sweat that covered her made her shiver and stir. 

 

She took some small pride in her assault on him, forcing him to taste his own sour seed on her lips and tongue. Maybe, just maybe, that taste would linger, seep through his palate and into his twisted brain. Perhaps the perverse bastard would think before defiling her the next time. 

 

And then there was the matter of the Resistance plant; Rose. She was a fool for not having caught on to the girl’s deceit. She was quiet and kind, contemplative in a way that Rey’s other handmaidens weren’t. She had preferred Rose above the others for that very reason, when it was just the two of them there wasn’t the constant buzz of gossip and giggling, Rey was able to hear her own thoughts. 

 

Rose had come onto her retinue just a week before Rey had been delivered to _The Supremacy_ like a prize animal ready for the slaughter. She hadn’t taken the time to thoroughly investigate the woman, she had missed the obvious signs, taken them for positive personality traits, even. 

 

Rose was quiet where the rest were chatty. She was complacent in her position while the rest of the flock were eager to curry favor and gain better standing with the soon to be empress. Rose _listened_ when Rey spoke, likely taking note of every lilt in Rey’s voice, every shift of foot or tone.

 

Custom dictated that the woman be swiftly executed for espionage. But, as Rey dressed herself for the first time in days and ordered for Rose to be brought to her quarters, she spun a better plan, one that she could use to her advantage in a multitude of ways. 

 

She forewent her usual grey robes, instead opting for black ones. They were tight fitting until they broke into dual slits at the hip on either side of her body, giving way to tight fitting black leggings that ended above the knee. She wound her calves in a wrapping of the same hue, along with her arms up to the elbow; leaving only her face and upper arms bare. She tugged at the tight, high collar of the robes, appreciating how it accentuated the length of her neck as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror. 

 

She looked alluring in the way a venomous snake might. She flashed her own fangs, baring her teeth to herself in the mirror. No, not a snake—they were low lying creatures that crawled on their bellies. Rey was a lioness out for blood, and she would crawl for no one. 

 

The tap of timid footsteps from her rooms proper sounded through the ‘fresher, and Rey smirked at her reflection before turning in an ebony swirl and stepping out to meet her unfortunate prey. She still hadn’t decided how she would handle the situation, it was entirely dependent on Rose’s reaction to the accusations against her. 

 

Rose was pale, her kind eyes cast downwards toward her feet. 

 

“Look at me.” Rey commanded, and the girl acquiesced. Rey was cast in a suddenly stalwart gaze. A facade of unyielding bravery that belied fear. 

 

“I know who you are, Rose Tico. I know who sent you here, and I know that you have been collecting intelligence and reporting back to Leia Organa’s Resistance.” The girl’s hands fisted at her sides, white knuckled as she ground her jaw. Rey smirked, enjoying the game, taking pleasure in the response her tirade evoked. 

 

“You are a spy, a veritable _rat_ , who betrays her empire to collude with war criminals and—

 

“They are not!” Rose lunged, but Rey easily sidestepped the clumsy, anger fueled assault. The girl stumbled and tripped over her own feet, but was saved from face planting into the carpet by her would be assaultee.

 

Rey held a steady hand in the air between them, levitating Rose’s tense form inches from the floor. 

 

“Shut up.” She snapped, and then sent the other woman careening into the far wall, “Rebel scum you may be, but I am still your empress.” 

 

Rose hissed, rolling from her prone position to thrust her back against the wall. She raised a small hand to touch tentatively at her forehead, and winced when her fingers came away bloody. Her head had split when she had been flung into the durasteel paneling. 

 

“Never,” She seethed, “You’ll never be anything to me, or anyone, we’ll—”

 

“You’ll stop me?” Rey giggled sardonically, approaching Rose with a swing in her step that was hardly preemptive of an execution. “Before my wedding, in three days? A bit presumptuous, don’t you think?”

 

Rose glared unflinchingly as Rey crouched before her, keeping her lips pursed in a tight line. 

 

Rey cocked her head and smiled threateningly, “No you won’t. Your pathetic Resistance will do _nothing_.” 

 

Her fingers danced over the underside of Rose’s rounded jaw, wiping away of rivulet of blood that would have otherwise dripped onto the carpet. 

 

“I should kill you,” she mused, eyeing the crimson droplet thoughtfully. Hux would be furious if she didn’t execute the woman. Releasing her would constitute treason. 

 

Rey’s eyes sparked and she bit her lip. There were better uses yet for this wayward child. Treason or no, she wanted to get a message to the Resistance, to spite her fiancé and his whole fucked family. “But that would be an exceptional waste of resources.” 

 

The girl’s eyebrows rose and her lips parted in incredulity, “What are you saying?” 

 

“I’m offering you a way to leave this starship alive, Rose.” Rey rose to her feet and offered the girl an amiable hand. 

 

“Why?” Rose breathed and hesitated with her fingers just a hair's breadth from Rey’s. She was perplexed, and fearful that the empress was baiting her into a trap. 

 

A wise girl, but ultimately her caution was misplaced; “I can have a ship prepared for you in hangar bay sixteen in half an hour, fully fueled, sans tracker. All I need you to do is deliver a message to Leia Organa for me. One of utmost importance.”

 

Rose gulped and pushed herself to her feet, rejecting Rey’s hand but still nodding her head in reluctant agreement. “Okay, what’s the message?”

 

The grin of satisfaction that split Rey’s face was utterly demented. “In three days time I will be wed to her son.” Rose blanched at the word _son_ , apparently having been unaware of the familial relationship between her beloved general and the scourge of the galaxy. 

 

Rey chuckled and continued, “It will be televised across the galaxy, and I’m certain that she will be watching; supportive mother that she is. Tell her to look on her son’s face, and see that he is gone. Tell her that the mark she sees there is my own, that it is an engagement gift from myself. And tell her that where she failed to save Ben Solo, I will _raise_ Kylo Ren.”

 

Rose’s pallored skin still had yet to regain the irate and defiant flush it previously held, and her voice stuttered as she gave a paltry attempt to argue and rationalize, “Th— That isn’t true…” She trailed off midway through her complaint, unable to finish the thought.

 

“It is,” Rey assured, finally regaining her steely composure, “Ask her yourself. The Princess has never been one to lie to her own people.” 

 

Rose swallowed and blinked nervously, finally relaxing a bit, “Okay, I’ll do it.” 

 

“Excellent,” Rey motioned the girl towards the door, “Go, gather your things. As I said, a transport will be waiting in hangar sixteen within the hour.”

 

The girl shuffled out into the industrial hallway without so much as a mumbled thanks. Not that Rey had expected one. They didn’t teach manners in Resistance bases it seemed. 

 

As the door hissed shut behind her, and she spun back into her rooms with renewed confidence, something changed. It was as if a hole had been punched into the infrastructure of the ship, and all sound and breathable elements had been sucked out into the icy vacuum of space. 

 

Her head spun, and she stumbled over her own feet, catching herself only barely by splaying her palms on the foot of her bed. “What—?” She whispered, but was interrupted by her own echo filling the space around her. 

 

 _Look up_. The command was voiceless and sexless. Just the seed of a thought planted in her mind by some actor yet unknown to her. 

 

She obeyed, turning her gaze from where her fingers gripped her duvet, up to where she rested her head each night. There, sprawled across _her_ mattress, naked as the day he was born, laid Kylo Ren. He stared back at her with confusion that surpassed her own, mostly due to the vindictive anger that usurped all other emotions when she spotted him. 

 

“What are you doing here?” She spat, managing to steady herself as she clambered back into a standing position. How had he gotten in? She hadn’t left in days, certainly she would’ve noticed such a brute of a man attempting to clamber in through a vent. 

 

From the twinge of his dark eyebrow she suspected that he could hear her thoughts, perhaps he hadn’t snuck in. Maybe this was— 

 

“You’re the one in my quarters, slut.” He countered half heartedly, unable to rouse his full irritation when he was so confounded. He glanced around himself, and licked his full lips as they both listened to the steady echoing of his words. 

 

“No,” He breathed, “This is—”

 

“The Force is connecting us.” Rey finished for him. And finally their eyes locked, sable and honey meeting in utter vexation. They _hated_ one another, and yet… 

 

“I knew this would happen,” she crawled up the bed to kneel beside him, looming over his broad chest. She brushed her fingers over his right pec, just beneath his nipple. Her skin tingled at the contact. “You must’ve felt it. The burn when we touched? When I kissed you? These strange symptoms over the past three days, did you not feel them too?” 

 

He blinked and parted those handsome, full lips only for the connection to abruptly end. Just as suddenly as he had appeared, the emperor was gone. Rey was left alone, her fingers hovering over the place where he had lain. 

 

She breathed a heavy sigh and slumped forward. This was an interesting development, but not an entirely unexpected one. Rey had a hunch that Snoke would be on them both soon enough, once Kylo revealed the depth of their connection to the old creature. 

 

Three days. 

 

What was a woman to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So confidence is still down. This was a tough one to write; I sincerely hope it doesn’t disappoint you they way it disappointed me. 
> 
> Wedding next chapter? 
> 
> Feedback gives me strength.


	8. matrimony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wedding is had and Snoke demands recompense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly this whole chapter feels like shit to me ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

For three days he staunchly ignored her. The force may have been connecting them, but he was determined to shun this… _this travesty_. That’s what it was, a travesty. To be connected to such a sniveling little creature. 

 

He loathed that she had been correct. That Rey had given voice to the burn where his skin had brushed her own, the way his lips throbbed from her kiss, how untraceable illness had plagued him with ceaseless vertigo only eased by the unbidden connection of their minds. 

 

“You’re thinking about me.” It was as if the very air had been sucked from his quarters, as if all sound and sensation was siphoned away into the vacuum of space save her wind-chime voice and the heat of her body so close to his own. 

 

Ren snorted and rose up from his desk where he had been dutifully completing _paperwork_ ; like Emperor’s were want to do. He wore a loose pair of sleep pants, slung low over the ‘v’ of his proportionally narrow hips and a towel was thrown over his broad, damp shoulders.

 

He had stepped out of the ‘fresher just a few moments previous, and he didn’t miss the way her eyes roamed appreciatively over the flushed planes of his body, following the few rivulets of water he had missed as they made their trek over his chest and down the planes of his abdomen. 

 

Even after all he had done to her Rey still desired him physically. The feelings were mutual in a sadistic way. He wanted to make her hurt, wanted to see that same look of fear and defeat that had soured her face the night he’d ruined her; tonight he would have his chance. 

 

“How could you tell?” He snarled, “Was it the expression of utter loathing on my face, or my erection?” Kylo forced a throaty laugh as he lewdly groped himself through the fabric of his pants. A slight meant to invoke outrage and disgust; she’d caught him masturbating to the memory of him defiling her just the previous morning. Repugnance didn’t suit her. It soured her pretty face; just like his come had. It made him grin. 

 

Rey too looked freshly bathed; her skin flushed, hair wrapped up in a ludicrously fluffy towel that made her look more an alien— a Twi’lek caught in a rotary engine— than a blushing bride-to-be. 

 

She feigned indifference, but he could detect the strain beneath her pointed words, “At least I know you won’t be useless come tonight.” 

 

An understatement   
“I’ve proved that to you twice over now, haven’t—”

 

He stopped when Rey jerked her head suddenly to the right, her brows raised in surprise and contempt. She was afraid. Why was she afraid?

 

The bond closed just as abruptly as it had opened; the sounds of the ship crashing over him in industrial waves; the _whirr_ of the air cycling and the creaking of pipes and steel bearing the weight of a behemoth upon them. 

 

Was… _was she in danger_?

 

He physically shook the thought from his mind. The whore was clever and strong, even if someone had managed to slip past her impressive retinue of security, she would reave them in two with a flash of crimson fury. 

 

Rather than waste energy worrying over a wisp of a girl— _his soon to be begrudging wife_ — he turned his attention towards the clothing that had been delivered earlier that morning by a service droid. 

 

The First Order as a whole wasn’t a regime of pomp— at least not in the way of fanciful dress and elaborate wedding ceremonies; but the event was being broadcast as mandatory viewing to the core worlds, so it was deemed necessary that both the Emperor and Rey wear _something_ of note. 

 

It was an interesting article; a tunic of black velvet trimmed with silver along the shoulders and finished with buttons of the same color where it fastened over his right shoulder then down along his chest, ending just over the shine of a dark, leather belt. The trousers were plain black, sewn from the same soft material and tailored to hug the musculature of his thighs. 

 

The soft leather of the boots came halfway up his calves; another article to cling to him; accentuating his already hulking presence.

 

He took a moment to appreciate himself in the mirror. Kylo knew that he was by no means handsome— Rey had seen to that—but he worked tirelessly to maintain his physical form; and to have this outfit tailored to display it so perfectly was pleasing on a base, masculine level. 

 

He chose to leave the cloak for the moment, though it was meant to complete the ensemble. Even where it laid crumpled on his bed he could appreciate the elaborate embroidery that was sewn so carefully into the jet black fabric. The sixteen rayed star of The First Order was the most notable of the designs, its brilliance hewn in silver. It would be displayed proudly upon his back, then upon Rey’s own shoulders come the night cycle. 

 

Three delicate knocks came from his door, and he realized as he authorized the beautician— his hair stylist for the evening— to enter, that Rey hadn’t been in danger at all. 

 

Unless nose powdering was a punishable offense. And with a spirit as wily as her own, it very well could be. 

 

The woman who entered was a Togruta, pushing a small cart of her tools in front of her. He recognized a scant few of them; hairbrush, comb, clips, and a pot of mousse similar to that which Leia Organa once used when working with her own dark locks. He recoiled from the memory, dragging his attention away from her implements of torture and to the woman herself. 

 

Red Skinned and lovely as any Togruta, with long, tapered, blue and white lekku that lay neatly over her shoulders. She wore simple robes; standard issue for the serving girls of nobles. She must have been one of Rey’s handmaidens, repurposed or the sole task of making him look _pretty_. 

 

“You’re one of Rey’s.” He stated bluntly once the woman had fallen into the customary bow. 

 

“Yes,” she replied towards the black carpet, “My lady is being readied for the wedding as we speak. I was asked to attend to you. You hardly require the attention that Lady Ren is receiving, but some grooming is necessary when cameras will be about.” 

 

_Lady Ren_. He shuddered at the sound of it; an unsavory thing that would be patent truth in a matter of hours. Though it was still preferable to Rey Solo, he supposed. 

 

Ren nodded, indicating to the Togruta that she could stand. She motioned for him to take a seat at his desk, he followed wordlessly, tense to have someone behind him— so close to the exposed skin of his throat. 

 

She was uncharacteristically relaxed for someone so close to the notoriously tempestuous Emperor. She placed a mirror in front of him on the desk so he could watch her work, and draped a sheet of clear plastic over his shoulders and chest to protect his dress from any accidental spillage. 

 

“What’s your name?” He demanded as she ran a comb through his still damp hair, pulling free the few tangles he had missed with his own. 

 

Ren didn’t like the silence; he was willing to admit his own disease when it came to social interaction, and the quiet only furthered his insecurity. It seemed a petty thing for an Imperator to become caught up in; social anxiety. But his station did little to quell his childish discomfort. 

 

“Eleni.” She didn’t sound afraid, only mildly irritated that he was trying to speak while she worked so diligently. The handmaid had already begun to rub some sort of aromatic cream into his scalp. 

 

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence he tried again; “How is my fiancé?” 

 

_His_. The thought flooded him with simultaneous disgust and inexplicable ecstasy. 

 

“Well enough. My lady was isn’t fond of pampering, or basic hygiene for that matter. The first time we shaved her she—” The Togruta cut herself off, pursing her lips as if she had revealed too much. 

 

It was clear that the woman didn’t wish to speak; so Ren hushed up and let her do her work. 

 

He couldn’t help but wonder if Rey had shared the details of their less-than-pleasant interactions with her flock; but it seemed farfetched. The girl obviously wasn’t the gossiping type, and if the brief glimpse the stylist had provided was any indication; Rey wasn’t entirely fond of her group of tittering women. 

 

He gave a reserved sigh and sunk further into his seat; content to doze while Eleni worked. 

 

It was likely the last nap he’d have for quite some time if his _wife_ had anything to say about it.

↤↦

Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes until her world would be drastically and permanently altered. Rey shut her eyes tight and clenched her fists, inhaling deeply of the stale air in the turbolift.

 

She felt coltish on her own feet; the strappy shoes she had been forced into having a marked effect on her sense of balance. Force help her; _if she fell_ —

 

“You look beautiful, my lady.” Her aid spoke, the girl’s high voice cutting through Rey’s thoughts like a knife. It was for the best that she not be allowed to wallow in her own head; though that obviously hadn’t been the handmaid’s intent.

 

The girl only saw the tenseness of her muscles, the rivulet of sweat that trailed from beneath her jaw down into the high collar of her gown. She mistook it for nervousness; anxiety in the face of public scrutiny, when in actuality the scourge that plagued Rey was unadulterated terror masked by a thin veneer of indignation.

 

Today she would be irreversibly bound to a man who thought her his enemy; who took pleasure in defiling her, hurting her. And his master, the orchestrator of it all, would watch on with aberrant glee. 

 

Within that fear pulsed something else; insolence, resentment maybe. This was a wedding, _her_ wedding. Matrimony was meant to be a joyful thing. Something to be shared with friends and _family_. Yet there was no father here to walk her down a flower strewn aisle, no mother to weep tears in an amalgamation of unrelenting exuberance and bittersweet loss. All she had was Hux— for whom she _was_ grateful— and if she hadn’t known the truth of her orphan status she might be content, might have accepted Snoke’s puppeteering with reluctant passivity; but not now. It was a struggle to maintain any sort of composure with so much fear and grief hounding her thoughts. 

 

The lift doors opened with a rush of stale, cycled air and the very ginger who had occupied her thoughts not a moment earlier stepped inside. He wore his full Order regalia, medals and silvery epaulettes included. The look of the cruel, cynical military general suited him; and if Rey hadn’t known the man personally she might have found his current state of dress intimidating in conjunction with his height and scrunched, bitter expression. 

 

The aid stepped aside without so much as raising her eyes in greeting, skittering out into the hallway as the doors _whooshed_ shut behind her. 

 

It was almost time, then; fifteen minutes having dwindled so quickly to five. Maybe fewer. They were poised just a floor beneath The Supreme Leader’s throne room; in a moment they would ascend and Rey would take Hux’s steadying arm and be marched over steely polished floor to an uncertain fate. 

 

“Did they find it?” Hux inquired softly. 

 

_Oh_. 

 

In her panic Rey hadn’t had the time to worry over _that_. A birth control chip— treason— that had been inserted beneath the skin just under her left buttock rather than on her inner bicep. A precaution to prevent pregnancy until after their plan had come to fruition. It had been difficult to obtain; but they had found a small clinic on Coruscant after a fair amount of searching. Rey had gone planetside under the guise of dress shopping.

 

That had been months ago; and still none of the Order doctors or med droids had detected its presence. It gave her some small comfort now, knowing that no matter what might take place in her marriage bed tonight she wouldn’t end up saddled with an unwanted child, sired by less than consensual means. 

 

“No.” Her voice shook and Hux squeezed her arm reassuringly. 

 

“You’ll survive this, Rey. You’ve endured far worse.” 

 

“I don't know if that’s true.” 

 

They stood in stiff silence for a long moment, before Hux broke it again. His icy eyes looked her up and down disapprovingly. He didn’t like the outfit and Rey was apt to agree. 

 

It was too revealing, cutting diagonally across from one shoulder from the satin chokehold it had on her neck, to the left side of her waist where it chinched before it spanned to encompass her right hip. The tanned skin of her right side was on open display, and the length her left leg was left woefully bare by a split in the flowing skirt. The article shimmered in the fluorescent light of the elevator, the black fabric inlaid with tiny glittering gemstones. 

 

Rey felt naked and entirely overdressed in a dichotomy of shameful confusion. With her skin shaven and rubbed raw, her face powdered and painted in what felt like a hundred layers of gunk, and her hair combed and twisted until her scalp ached; she hardly felt like Rey anymore. 

 

Hux glanced around the lift despite their apparent solitude; it was a habit that they shared. There were few places safe from Snoke’s ever present scrutiny; they had to be careful. 

 

“Snoke had them dress you like a prostitute,” He hissed, “I promise you that Ren looks much more… _dignified_ than this.” 

 

Rey snorted a sardonic laugh, tugging at the collar where it chafed her neck. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but Snoke seems to think very little of the women around him. Kylo will look the Emperor and I’ll look his painted whore.”

 

Hux’s lips quirked upwards at her apparent displeasure. He liked it when they complained together, it felt like things had once before; what might as well have been a lifetime ago, when he oversaw her training and they became reluctant compatriots, then willing friends in their shared resentment of The Supreme Leader. 

 

The elevator jerked upwards and Rey whimpered; all of her fury rushing from her in a wave of white hot fear that tingled from her fingertips to her scalp.

 

Hux looped am arm through her’s both to assume their expected position and to steady her.

 

Then the doors slid open, and all Rey could see was bloody red.

↤↦

Ren’s first thought once the geometric doors to Snoke’s throne room gave way; was that Rey looked beautiful, in a garish, licentious sort of way.

 

His second was that the cameras were trained on her as she marched towards them— like a parishioner towards an open casket— and that only _he_ should be allowed to see so much of her svelte form. She was his wife; his woman given to him by The Supreme Leader, and still she was put on brazen display for the whole of the galaxy to ogle. 

 

The third was less a thought and more a violent compulsion he was forced to repress. He hated the sight of Rey on Hux’s arm. The bastard seemed so smug that he had Rey’s favor while she so clearly despised Ren. His lip twitched and it was a struggle to keep from baring his teeth at the wretch. 

 

Then Rey was beside him and Hux dematerialized into the ranks of Order personnel who filled the room. He took a moment to fully appreciate her; the way the dress hugged and gave way to wide swaths of tanned skin, the way her makeup contoured her face to make her look less like a sniveling girl and more like a dignified woman, the way her hair was braided from just behind her temples back into a tight bun on the back of her head, the under layer left loose where his own was tied back into a tight tail that pulled uncomfortably at his scalp. 

 

Snoke cleared his withered throat, indicating to Ren that it was time. The Emperor dragged his eyes away from his wife towards his master, and The Supreme Leader rose to his feet, his gilded robe catching the red-white light of the room and the tapestries that covered the windows. At his full height the creature was nigh on seven and a half feet, still human, but questionably so. 

 

Both Ren and Rey dropped to their knees in accordance with their shared master’s demands, and he leveled ancient, knotted hands over their bowed heads. 

 

“My children,” he began, his voice carrying an air of portentousness that wasn’t just for the cameras, “How I love you. It brings me such pride to finally be graced with both of your presences on this most momentous day. I have watched you grow from untrained children into capable, loyal servants. One of you is already an Emperor, my most trusted protege, and now, I shall make the other― my darling Rey― into an Empress worthy of him.” 

 

Ren would have scoffed at the absurdity of it all if he hadn’t known that the ceremony was already halfway over. Mandatory viewing didn’t denote a seven hour slog of meaningless trite: it constituted a fifteen minute ceremony meant to establish further hold over the galaxy. For this briefness Ren knew that both he and Rey were grateful. 

 

“Rise, Emperor Kylo Ren, and receive my blessing.” Ren did as he was bid, standing to his full height and looking to his master with due reverence. 

 

“You,” he was beginning to sound winded, and the snub toothed smile he gave was unnerving, “Are like a son to me. It pleases me immensely that now you shall give me a daughter. Remove your cloak, Kylo Ren, and lay it over your bride’s shoulders. Bring her under your protection and the protection of The First Order.

 

Ren unclipped the broach that held the cloak in place and shrugged it off of his shoulders. Suddenly, as it enveloped Rey in a cascade of ebony and silver, he realized that it served dual purpose. One was its literal meaning, spoken aloud by his master just moments before. The second was implied and far more insidious. It was meant to cover the skin Rey was showing in the dress Snoke had undoubtedly chosen for her, a power play to shame her while the world watched. Kylo’s stomach dropped as he let go of the velveteen fabric. For once he pitied her. 

 

“Now, young Rey, rise and face your husband, your Emperor, your protector, and seal this sacred bond.” 

 

He could sense her horror, the way her body shook beneath the cloak, and when she faced him there was no fire in her eyes; only shimmering tears yet unshed. He took the initiative, since it seemed Rey was unable to, closing the distance between them and crushing his mouth to her own in a sloppy amalgamation of a kiss. It was dispassionate and closed mouthed, over mercifully quickly. 

 

Then it was done, they were wed. Rey wouldn’t meet his eyes, likely cowing in fear of what was sure to come. It excited him.

 

“My children!” Snoke’s voice boomed with sudden strength. This wasn’t what bride nor groom had expected, and both jumped at the sudden vindication in the old master’s chord, “This match is a gift I have bestowed upon the both of you, and so I expect innumerous gratitude in return. You shall begin with your _honeymoon_ ,” the word dripped from his swollen gums like poison that Ren would undoubtedly be forced to drink, “The location of Luke Skywalker has been made known to me. Tomorrow morning, once your union has been consummated, you shall leave, and you shall not return until you have procured the head of the last Jedi to honor both the glory of the Order, and this benefaction I have bestowed upon you.” 

 

Ren’s response was decided and immediate, “Yes Supreme Leader, I am honored to be trusted with such a task.”

 

A task now made public to the entirety of the inner rim; there were bound to be numerous Resistance operatives scrambling as they dawdled, Luke might be _gone_ come morning. Ren forced the thoughts from his mind. Snoke was powerful and wise; every action he took carried great purpose behind it and it was not an apprentice’s place to question such omniscience. 

 

Rey took a moment to reply, the beat between Ren’s acquiescence and her own labored with uncertainty and telling hesitation, “I am…” she gulped, “I am honored, Supreme Leader.”

 

It wasn’t a satisfactory reply, and were it any other day she would have face swift retaliation for her hesitance. Snoke glared at her, then returned to his throne, generously allowing them space. 

 

“Very good,” he smiled, “Be gone then. Go, _fuck_ , create a progeny to rival that of any dynasty to precede your own, Kylo Ren..”

 

Kylo was more than happy to oblige. 

 

He relinquished his duty to annihilate Skywalker to the back of his mind as he and Rey were rushed through the labyrinthian halls of _The Supremacy_. He would not allow dark memories to ruin this night. He would not allow the shadow of Ben Solo to hold any sway over what would take place in Kylo Ren’s marriage bed. On this night he controlled all, nothing, _no one_ would stop him from taking what he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to apologize for the long wait between this chapter and the previous one; sometimes real life comes to bite you in the ass, ya know? I feel like this whole chapter was a pile of shit, which is nice. But whatever. 
> 
> Wedding was loosely inspired by those in ASoIaF, hence the cloak business. Sorry it was so short, but it honestly isn't that important in this story. It's what comes after that matters, we aren't even halfway done yet. 
> 
> Next update is probably a few weeks out. I'm taking part in the Reylo Fanfiction Anthology valentine's exchange, so after this update that WIP will be receiving my full attention. Keep an eye out for it!


	9. fever pitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fever pitch is reached.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Major Content Warning** : Please check the end notes for a more detailed description. 
> 
> This chapter was written while I was listening to the song ‘In the woods somewhere’ by Hozier on repeat.

Rey wanted to run, to turn tail and flee. She was strong enough to cut her way through the waves of stormtroopers and First Order officers. They were all soft, cut from a lesser fabric than she; but she wasn’t so certain that she could contend with the Knights of Ren, who would undoubtedly come at their master’s beckoning. As much as Rey may have loathed the idea of the act that was about to be performed— _on her_ , not by her, nor with her— she couldn’t run from it. There was no escaping this fate. It had been decided for her the moment Snoke executed her parents; this was her destiny, she had been groomed for it all her life, and she resented it with every aching fiber of her being. 

 

Still, as the doors to his rooms slid shut she was suddenly acutely aware of the chill in the air. Did he always keep his apartments this frigid, or was it just her state of relative undress? The cloak, beautiful as it may have been, did little to keep the cold at bay. 

 

As Ren shuffled around behind her she tried to make small talk to fill the uncomfortable silence that permeated the space between them, “It— um… it’s kind of cold in here, do you think—”

 

“No.” Kylo interjected, strutting to stand directly behind her. Goosebumps pimpled her skin where his breath ghosted over the nape of her neck. He gripped the cloak that she clutched tightly to her body and tore it from her shoulders with a sordid chuckle. Basking in her scramble to cover up. 

 

He could sense her insecurity in this dress, could taste how the ceremony had demeaned her in the sour air between them; and still he taunted her. 

 

“Strip.” He demanded, his voice lowering dangerously. 

 

Rey shuddered. She didn’t want this. She _couldn’t_ do this. It would hurt, he’d tear her in half and then laugh over her while she wept and bled. 

 

“Kylo,” she spun to face him, praying the tears that shimmered in her eyes wouldn’t serve to further embolden him, “ _please_ —”

 

“Silence.” Rey felt his mind press into her own, willing his word into reality. She hadn't realized how exposed she was. In her terror and strife she had left herself hopelessly vulnerable to his tricks and biddings, her meticulously constructed walls of adamant resorted to piles of ebony rubble at her feet. 

 

“ _Take off your clothes._ ” His voice was layered thick with want and deviant entreaty as the clawed fingers of his mind ran cruelly over her own, sending sharp jolts of pain running fast and hot through her temples. 

 

Rey seethed and looked away, at the floor, the ceiling, the dirt on his black linoleum, in any direction but his own. To look him in those eyes of swirling sable would only intensify his hold over her. She clenched her fists at her sides and resisted; tears streaking hot over her cheeks, carrying charcoal black rivulets of eye makeup to mark their pathetic trails. 

 

As impotent as she might have felt, she still managed to dredge up the wherewithal to fight him despite the ultimate futility of the act. He would get what he wanted; it was his prerogative— her duty as an empress, a wife. But she wouldn’t make it easy, or pleasant. Kylo Ren would have to _work_ for it. 

 

“I said; _strip_.” At the third syllable Rey was seized by an abrupt and icy manifestation of the force; it constricted at her wrists, around her throat, until the force of it brought reddish bruises to the surface of her skin. Just as her vision began to waver and blur— fading away in splotches, like a sheet of paper held over an open flame— Ren gave a snarl of vexation and sent her flying backward onto his bed. 

 

Rey gasped, swallowing down precious air, and flipped onto her stomach in a paltry attempt to scramble up the duvet and away from _him_. It was ultimately futile flee, there was nowhere to go, but instinct demanded that she try 

 

He landed on his knees behind her, making the mattress bounce and shift beneath his heft. 

 

“Stay down,” he commanded, low and rough, and Rey could hear him fumbling himself free from the velveteen fabric of his trousers. 

 

She complied; if only to hide the heady tears that streaked over her ruddy cheeks. Rey buried her face in the black comforter, gripping a silk encased pillow with white knuckled hands. 

 

This was it. She didn’t know why she had ever expected anything different. Girlish fantasies, she supposed, impossible inventions of her own imagination that she should have quashed ages before. 

 

When she tried to dip into his mind in a feeble attempt to glean Kylo’s own emotions she was met with a wall of solid, icy resolve. Whatever it masked was beyond her reach, and she quickly recoiled as his hands slid up the curve of her ass, settling over the glittering gossamer of her dress briefly before he gripped and _tore_ , baring her to the chill air.

 

Ren lifted Rey’s rear up, forcing the crotch of her sheer, lace panties to the side. He palmed her the firm globes of her ass for a moment, almost contemplatively, and then she felt something hard, thick, and blunt press against her outer lips. There was no real intent behind the gesture, even as he rocked his hips and slid his turgid flesh against her it was with unprecedented diffidence. 

 

Perhaps he wasn’t so hopelessly beholden to Snoke’s will?

 

Rey gave one final, pitiful plea for mercy; “ _Please, Kylo._ ” Her voice was thick, laid heavy with tears and shuddering sobs. 

 

He stilled, and the wall of brutal unfaltering intention that had separated her so effectively from his thoughts shook with the weight of her words. For a brief moment Rey was party to his hesitation, his guilt, his regret at this heinous act he felt compelled to carry out; and she knew that there would be no swaying him, not now. In that second he was too far gone, two malleable and bent to Snoke’s twisted dogma. And then the wall was resurrected and something akin to resentment boiled over its barbed top and flooded Rey’s senses with its revilement. 

 

He leaned over her, biting cruelly at the shell of her ear, “ _No_.” 

 

Kylo Ren thrust his hips forward with brutal force and Rey gasped at the sensation of being torn in two. It was a bitter ripping that spread with a ferocious efficiency from her core to her every limb and extremity. She sobbed and bit down onto her forearm, breaking skin with her blunt teeth, eliciting immense pain to distract from that which emanated from her ragged center. 

 

Ren grunted and huffed over her back, leaning down to bite cruelly at her bare shoulder, his teeth tugging and tongue probing in such a way that she was certain he was trying to mark her; brand her with the brevity of this moment, so even once it ended, she wouldn’t forget. 

 

With her face buried in her arms, jostled and jilted painfully with each pointed thrust of his hips, each painful slide of his cock within her, something was shaken loose. A shard of self control, of sanity, was broken from the mosaic of her brain and shattered with the force of this torture. 

 

Rey grinned, raising her head and letting loose a belt of laughter that invoked a sense of utter derangement. Kylo’s pace stuttered behind her and she squeezed her inner walls, wincing through the pain and finding some small pleasure in the weight of his cock inside her. 

 

“You want to make me hurt, Kylo?” Rey goaded, wiggling her hips painfully and bracing herself on the mattress, “ _Harder_.”

 

He stilled behind her, a stuttering breath catching in his chest. Again the balance of power was thrown, and suddenly his controlling hold over this moment, this act of depravity, was weakened. 

 

Rey shook him from his stupor with a dangerous taunt, one she was certain would earn her immediate and harsh retribution, “Losing your hard-on now that I’m enjoying it, _Ben_?” 

 

A dead name. A dead boy. Kylo roared and thrust twisting fingers into her hair. Tearing it loose from the braids and bun he pressed her face into the mattress as he delivered snapping, deep thrusts, and she howled into the duvet in a sickening dichotomy of agony and newfound excitement. 

 

The pain was exhilarating. It sent sparks flying behind her eyes and she grit her teeth and returned Kylo’s animals growls with equal ferocity, rocking her hips back towards him with each of his forward thrusts. 

 

She was just beginning to find her own pleasure— a burning warmth in the pit of her stomach— when Ren let out a choked gasp, biting back a moan as his hips stuttered against her ass. 

 

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” he swore as he spilled inside of her. His cum serving a pleasant balm to soothe the sting of her brutalized body. 

 

Rey mistook the quiet moment that followed his orgasm for a reprieve, an end to the chaos. But he wasn’t done— he had lost control, and would regain it before they slept this night. 

 

After he was sufficiently soft, and he slid out of her— both of their thighs speckled with blood and semen— he flipped her onto her back, lurching over her and gripping the column of her pretty throat in a large, calloused hand. 

 

“ _Never_ ,” he grit through clenched teeth, placing enough pressure on her windpipe to make her head spin, “ _call me that name again_.”

 

Rey groped at his wrist as she choked, fresh tears swelling and spilling over her lower lids. 

 

“Do you understand me?” 

 

Rey gargled in acquiescence, her vision becoming obscured by pinpricks of black that invaded her periphery. 

 

“Good.” He released her, “Go, clean yourself up.” The lilt of his words made his disdain towards her abundantly clear. He thought her disgusting, spoiled though it was his own seed that slid down her inner thighs. 

 

All semblance of strength lost to the twist of his wrist and squeeze of his long fingers, Rey scampered for the ‘fresher, choking on barely contained sobs. 

 

Once inside she began to draw her bath, too distraught to take the time to marvel at the size of his black tub or the jets that lined its base. The water ran hot enough to scald and she gladly slid into it; letting the tingling burn distract from the ache between her savaged thighs. 

 

Rey watched as the blood and cum dissolved away for her flesh; dirtying the water that lapped at her breasts in a distorted mockery of baptism. As her skin pinkened and her sweat mingled with her tears she ran a cloth between her thighs as though she could rub away the sensation of torn skin and restore to herself what Ren had so cruelly taken. 

 

Everything hurt. 

 

How had it come to this? 

 

As she shut her eyes and sank in further she pretended that she couldn’t hear sobs to match her own emanating from the other side of the door. Pretended that the twin echoes didn’t blend in a beautiful symphony of anguish; each echoing the other’s hurt and regret. 

 

As Rey sobbed into her wrinkled palms Kylo Ren sobbed into a silken pillow. An apt disparity of privilege and power. 

 

What a pair they made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Content Warning** : This chapter contains a dub-con sex scene that toes the line with non-con. **Edit: Despite my disagreeing due to context (Snoke) I am putting a non-con warning here. Though I still think it’s way more complicated than that. Be INCREDIBLY wary.**
> 
> Rey does not want to have sex, but Kylo— who is still heavily influenced by Snoke’s dogma— proceeds despite her.
> 
> I have made it very clear up to now that this is where this story was heading— this will be the worst of it, that I can promise— and if you choose to leave at this point I _completely_ understand. But for the love of god, do not flame me in the comments. I have slapped warnings ALL OVER this fic. And I’m already anxious enough about posting this update. Please don’t make this worse for me. 
> 
> For those of you who choose to stay and keep reading: _Thank you_. I know that this chapter was unpleasant, but like I said above, and like the chapter title implies, this is fever pitch. It can’t get any worse than this, they have nowhere to go but up ;)


	10. aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Kylo prep for their honeymoon, and BB-9E makes an appearance.

It was with a pounding headache and a foul taste in his mouth that Kylo woke the next morning.

 

After everything had been said and done, and Rey had fled to the respite of the ‘fresher, he had rolled onto his stomach and cried like a child, all of the fight fleeing him like water through splayed fingers. He had been sick with guilt, wracked by it until his stomach lurched and he had vomited into a garbage bin. 

 

_What had he done?_

 

A service droid had eventually come, bearing a tray of insipid food— their wedding supper— and a bag of Rey’s own belongings. The rest of her items would be moved into his quarters while they were away, honeymooning and hunting for his estranged uncle. This bag was simply meant to tide her through their trip. 

 

He had set it on the foot of the bed and returned to the small feast that the droid had laid out, only to snatch up the bottles of brandy and wine that had been included and slither back between his sheets to drink away his woes. He had ruminated over his own brutish actions as he nursed his vices, taking a long swig for every time he could have turned back, every time she had pled for him to stop and he had cruelly denied her. 

 

_It wasn’t you,_ a lecherous voice wretched at the back of his mind. _It was Snoke_. 

 

He stifled it quickly, not only were such thoughts treasonous, they were patently false. Kylo was ultimately presented with a choice, no matter how Snoke may have goaded him, and he had chosen a path of depraved violence, one from which he could not be redeemed. But it was his master’s will, and it was not his place to question such omniscience as Snoke’s.

 

Leading up to the consummation Snoke had been seated firmly within his skull, taunting him with whispers of cuckoldry and images of a ginger headed, red faced lech, he had lamented that Rey would soon surpass Kylo and take his place as imperator were he not to claim her this night. And then there had been the encouragements as Ren’s inner rage swelled into its own frothing entity; _she’s yours; your wife, your empress. Take her, make her know that she is yours. Repay her in full for the insubordination and insolence she has shown you._

 

His newly scarred flesh had throbbed and his vision had gone scarlet. He had ripped her clothing off of her like a barbarian and thrown her down onto his bed, taking her from behind like a rutting beast.

 

Then, during the act, she had called him _Ben_. A dead name. And the spectre of a dead boy had stood opposite them, watching over the bed as Ren lost his mind in painful, flashes of memory and did as Rey bid, he went _harder_ , and much to his rage addled dismay; Rey had begun to enjoy it. She had tightened around him like a fist, and a slickness had developed between her supple, blood flecked thighs. The clench of her body had heralded the loss of his control in more ways than one. He had come with a shout and rolled off of her, flustered. 

 

After that everything was a blur of anger and shame; he could see now, where Rey had relegated herself to sleep on the floor, that she had deep, purple black bruises circling her neck like binding chains. He had done that. 

 

He had also been the one to drag her from the bath, soaked and whimpering, once the alcohol had sufficiently emboldened him, and deposited her on the left side of his mattress. Kylo had fallen asleep haunted by the image of red tinged water. 

 

Now he looked over Rey where she laid on the floor, curled in on herself, wrapped in a thin silk sheet that she had snatched from his bed and the cloak he had lost at some point during their fucking. Her face was scrunched, eyes still puffy from the tears she had shed the night before. Kylo Ren looked away, unable to contend with what he had done. He would be forced to face it soon enough; when he and Rey boarded a private transport and set out to kill Luke Skywalker. Hopefully she would stick with her usual ensemble, the one with the high collar. 

 

He reached for his datapad, eager to immerse himself in the days activities; there was a message from The Supreme Leader— ostensibly, in truth it had been dictated to a peon— one that made Ren’s blood run cold in his veins. He would be spending much more _personal_ time with Rey than had been initially implied, it seemed. 

 

Snoke’s announcement during the ceremony had been all bravado. They didn’t truly possess Skywalker’s whereabouts, only an inkling of a hint at a possible map. Tucked away in the western reaches of the inner rim a ball of dust and ruin would be their destination; Jakku. Even then, the map wasn’t a certainty, and if they found it they would be required to follow it. Returning to regroup would only provide the opportunity for Skywalker to run. 

 

He was quite adept at running, Ben had learned, and Kylo retained that knowledge. He ran from power, from duty, from a past that still haunted him.

 

Ren gathered himself and made for the ‘fresher, still naked, intent to wash away his filth and shame beneath the spray of scalding water. 

 

“Kylo?” Rey stirred awake on the floor behind him.

 

Her voice was hoarse. From sleep or sobbing? Her pretended not to know. Ren wouldn’t turn to face her, wouldn’t see those swollen eyes open and damp with fresh tears, wouldn’t behold the violet necklace he had so graciously presented as a noble wedding gift to his wife. 

 

“Check your datapad. I received an important dossier that pertains to our mission. I imagine that you were copied on it as well.” He covered the distance between himself and the ‘fresher with two long legged strides and shut the door with a huff of undignified relief. 

 

Craven as he might have been, the silence of the tiled room was sobering. Here he could forget. Or so he thought. 

 

As he approached the black porcelain tub, he noticed tiny flecks of flaky material gathered around the silver of the drain. He knew that he should have turned the shower on, rinsed away whatever it was— _he knew what it was_. Still he knelt, reaching over the ebon side, and dragged two, shaking fingers through the substance, rubbing it between his fingertips to test its texture. 

 

Brown and brittle. 

 

Dried blood.

 

He spun on his knees, scraping his soiled digits across the smooth floor, cleaning his burning flesh of his sin. As the world spun around him he gripped the rim of the toilet and wretched into the bowl. Wretched until his throat was raw and the meager contents of his stomach had been claimed by the putrid water. And then he wretched some more.

↤↦

Rey was picking at the cold remnants of the meal that had been delivered the night before when Kylo finally stepped out of the fresher. He looked haggard, with dark circles under his eyes, his skin pallored despite the warm rush of his shower.

 

She had heard him wretching as she dressed herself tentatively, careful of the pain at the apex of her thighs. It had been a subtle sort of vindication to know that he was still hurting, still battling with himself, while she was already recovered enough to look him in his sable eyes. She had been afraid when he had come into the ‘fresher the night before and gathered her up into his arms. But, upon pressing into his drink muddled mind, she found no vindictiveness, none of the anger that had punctuated his every thrust into her. All that remained of their liaison was a ragged field of despondency and guilt. 

 

Snoke had commanded and Kylo Ren, loyal dog he was, had taken. Perhaps Ren wasn’t so loyal, not enough to take the brevity of his actions in stride and continue Rey’s torture. He had been almost tender when he had laid her on his bed; yet, still rattled by fear she had chosen to slip away and onto the cold floor. She hadn’t slept much, and that sleep which did find her had been plagued with vivid dreams of islands and deserts and Snoke dead on his gilded throne, but upon waking on this fateful morning, Rey found herself encompassed in steely resolve. 

 

She nibbled on a lemon cake and her husband dressed himself awkwardly, attempting to shield his nude form from her wandering eyes. He was handsome in body, well toned, as if he were carved from marble. His musculature wasn’t so viciously cut as she had seen on other men, though. He had a softness to him, a roundness to his bulk that subdued his air of aggression and made him seem more personable, less a weapon, more human. 

 

“No need for that, now,” she jested, rather meanly, “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. And you were so eager to show me just last night.” 

 

When he remained mum she continued, rattling off information more pertinent to the day ahead of them. “We’re expected in hangar sixteen in an hour. Jakku is only a day away, but we could be travelling much further if we obtain the map. Pack accordingly.” 

 

When he didn’t correct her for her commanding tone she took it for a good sign and explained her own plans. “The bag delivered here last night is all I’ll be needing. I’m going now, to take stock of our transport.”

 

He remained silent and she gathered her things, tugging at the high collar of her robes where it covered the sore, black and blue mess of her throat, and slipped from his chambers without so much as a salutation. Her husband seemed wholly intent to ignore her, and she was happy enough to humor him. Besides, she was giddy to see the ship. Something new to explore and investigate, and her way off of this Force forsaken star destroyer. 

 

The hangar was empty, save for a single luxurious cruiser that took up a small portion of its center. It was a beauty, a Baudo-class star yacht, all sleek and smooth and painted silver and black. Emblazoned over its hood was the sixteen rayed star of their order; its most lavish exterior ornamentation. 

 

Rey was less interested in the paint job and more so in the mechanics of the thing. It was highly customizable, common amongst smugglers. The laser cannon was generally considered to only be an extravagance, meant to frighten off potential pirates with a few hard hits, not to engage in any sort of violent altercation. Yet, looking at the heft of the thing, an obvious modification, Rey suspected that she would find a fully functional weapons system once she stepped inside, one to rival any TIE fighter’s. 

 

She hadn’t been wrong. The cockpit was impressive; a two seater, the smaller one to the right clearly intended for her, _the designated co-pilot_. Rey would see about that, she hadn’t flown in what felt like a lifetime. Perhaps it _had_ been a lifetime ago, before her engagement had been called in, when she was still travelling the mid rim in search of adventure with nought but a scant few guards at her side. She had enjoyed the kick of a heavily modified y-wing, a relic of the rebellion. Despite its storied history, having been the weapon of war for a purported enemy, she had felt right in the pilot’s chair. It had sung beneath her hands. That this one had been fixed with two extra ion engines— a fact she learned through a quick cursory diagnostic check— spoke to the urgency of this mission. Snoke had seemed all splendor and bluster during his haranguing, but the twisted creature was frightened. This subtle hint at criticality whispered of his own insecurity. The Resistance and the New Republic were strong, and Snoke was afraid. 

 

Beyond the tech, the cruiser was something to behold. The sleeping quarters, originally intended to house eight passengers, had been converted into a full master bedroom, furnished with fine red wood and black curtains. A king sized bed, all satin and silk, took up a significant portion of the floor space. The ‘fresher, which had once housed multiple toilets and shower stalls, was now more spacious than Kylo’s own. A large jacuzzi tub took up a quarter of the space, and Rey suspected she would be spending quite a bit of her leisure time lounging within, letting the jets work at her sore muscles and beat out her bruises. If she played her cards well, perhaps Kylo could be persuaded to join her.

 

There was still a clear disparity between his moral compass and Snoke’s own vision for the young emperor, a disparity that Rey hoped to exploit into derisiveness, and eventually treason. Ren’s regret had spoken to her more clearly than a thousand cruel japes ever could. Some light still lived on in him; a light that she could use to crush The Supreme Leader beneath the weight of his own creation. 

 

Once she had dropped her bag at the foot of the bed— the right side, she _always_ slept on the right side— she sauntered back to the cockpit, and let out a surprised gasp when something small and round bumped her leg as she passed the boarding ramp. 

 

It was an astrodroid, a BB-unit, a bulbous thing with a flat, cylindrical head. It beeped at her reverently, rolling so that its head inclined in a mechanical bow. 

 

Rey raised an eyebrow, looking down on the little thing with mild amusement. Their companion on this harrowing journey, it seemed. 

 

“And who might you be?” She chuckled, kneeling in front of it. It beeped out an answer in binary and her smirk broke into a grin, “Beebee-nine-e, huh? Welcome aboard.”

 

She rose back to her feet and gave it a dismissive pat on the head. Rey was rather fond of droids, they were never insolent or insubordinate, and they were easy for her to understand. Break them apart and they were all composed of the same stuff, metal and wires and scrap. Humans were much messier, a complex web of experience and emotion that lead to inexplicable violence and, paradoxically, unbridled joy all the same. 

 

The droid chirped after her that Kylo would be arriving soon, that she had better prepare herself for launch. She was more than happy to comply, commandeering the smooth leather of the pilot's chair. 

 

It was only once she was sat and running her hands adoringly over the control panel that the BB-9E whistled from behind her the coordinates she was meant to punch in. 

 

Jakku.

 

A wave of vivid black memories crashed over her, the dossiers and confidential reports she had torn through so voraciously, the second time in her short life she had visited the wastes of the planet— the only time she could remember. Standing in the shadow of a fallen AT-AT, a dead titan, swallowed whole by the sands. And the makeshift marker she had erected from a wall panel she had torn from the beasts great, open belly. 

 

As Kylo finally stepped into the cockpit, making a small noise of ill-content as he noticed her position in the pilot’s seat, she rose uncomplaining and relegated herself to the copilot’s place. Unable to complete the simple task of setting their location. 

 

And suddenly, with all of her might and boiling vindication, Rey did not want to return to Jakku.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one guys, meant mostly to set the scene for some of the upcoming chapters, though I do think that there were some interesting character moments.
> 
> I decided to get technical with the ships for a change, here's a link to the yacht they'll be cruising in: [Baudo-class star yacht](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Baudo-class_star_yacht)
> 
> Also, please please _please_ comment and let me know what you're thinking. They really do fuel my desire to write.


	11. reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two reunions, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight warning for some description of dead bodies. Nothing graphic.

Jakku was the barren wasteland of endless sand and dunes that Kylo had imagined, that he had viewed images and holos of in the dossier. The seamless expanse of rust and beige was only ever interrupted by the deep crevasse of a fault in the parched ground, or a jut of twisted steel which had been swallowed by the shifting sands long before his birth, only to be revealed again by whipping winds. 

 

Something about the desolate planet had clearly disturbed his wife, her discomfort was palpable, and hung over the both of them like a looming storm. He had thought it to be a delayed reaction his own presence and previous actions, initially, but that quickly changed.

 

Rey had awoken in the dead of the night cycle. Curled close to the edge of the right side of their mattress like she was trying to escape his presence, his heat. She had tried to stifle the sobs that wracked her body, which had seemed so small in that moment, so delicate. She pressed a clenched fist against her mouth and wrapped her lithe arms around her knees, clutching them to her heaving chest. 

 

Rey had never turned to face him, it was possible that she didn’t know he had borne silent witness to her grief, but he had watched; quiet and still and overwhelmed by a relentless, shameful emotion that dwarfed any semblance of guilt. 

 

She had been exposed, open and vulnerable in those brief moments of tumult, and though her thoughts hadn’t conveyed any clear image of her tormentor, there was little doubt in his mind that no one but he could invoke such despair.

 

The emotions had been visceral and raw, like a wound reopened and festering. 

 

He hadn’t slept for the remainder of the night. 

 

Now, even as his thoughts were clouded by exhaustion, he wasn’t so certain it was the memory of his brutality that had brought her sobbing from a dead sleep. 

 

As they had drawn nearer and nearer to their destination, the half dome of it looming before them as they broke atmosphere, Rey’s mood had grown increasingly sullen. 

 

And now that they had made planetfall, stepping out onto the sandy substrate of some village— the name of which Kylo hadn’t bothered to learn, he only knew that it had some association with the Church of the Force— Rey was totally farouche. Behind her honey eyes something animal flashed in the ceaseless radiance of the beating sun. 

 

This backwater held some significance to Rey. A thing that weighed on her heavily, that stoked fiery rage and invoked deep seated grief. 

 

Kylo ignored her mood. Now wasn’t the time for a petty tantrum and he had no intention of coddling or humoring her. 

 

“We’re here for a man called Lor San Tekka.” He said, more to fill the silence than anything. Rey had read the dossier, she knew what their objective was. “A rebellion veteran and a confidant of both Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa.” 

 

He leveled her a look of ire that warned against slighting him by referring to the persons in question as his uncle or mother respectively. There were very few people who were courageous enough to confront him with those words, but Rey was certainly one of them. In her present mood he suspected that she wouldn’t hesitate to test him. 

 

She remained peculiarly mum. Toying thoughtlessly with her lightsaber where it was clipped at her waist. 

 

As they entered the ramshackle settlement they were both immediately aware of the x-wing— one of Resistance make— tucked haphazardly behind a row of hovels. It was poorly hidden, draped in a rough spun tarp that wasn’t quite large enough to contain its breadth. The landing gear was on full display as well as a splash of dirtied orange where the tarp was torn over the wing. 

 

The Resistance was here. In fact, the Resistance had _beaten_ them to this place, had reached Jakku before them, Kylo fumed. 

 

He growled low in his throat and Rey spoke up for the first time that morning; “We’d better work quickly.” 

 

Ren agreed, the locals had begun to take notice of the two strangers in black, with their luxury cruiser and their sabers on full display. BB-9E bumped along eagerly beside them, a droid who lived to please. It zapped the leg of a ruffian who stood too near to Rey, ogling her openly, seconds away from opening his fool mouth and blustering at her. 

 

Several scavengers and junk traders were already loitering around and poking at at the ebony matte of their cruiser’s paneling, eyeing the star of The Order emblazoned over its front suspiciously. A ship free of rust and the grit the sandstorms ingrained must’ve been a rare sight for the paupers. One of Order make must’ve been seen as a dark omen. Ren leveled an acrid glare at them, and a tall, lean Togruta woman clad in sparse leathers took immediate notice, elbowing one of her companions. 

 

The residents of the village gave the craft a large berth after that. 

 

Rey sniffed, “I’ll disable the x-wing, you start questioning locals.” 

 

He wasn’t fond of being dictated to by subordinates, but it was as good a plan as any, so he kept himself from correcting her. Besides, they had a mission to complete, and the sooner they reboarded _The Supremacy_ , or even more desirable, his Coruscant apartments— the sooner he could relax. Rey was a knife at his throat, a bomb ticking away, losing precious seconds with every word, every somber look. Guilt be damned, he couldn’t trust her. 

 

He left his wife and the droid to contend with the fighter and began making rounds through the village. A sparse, pathetic place where the faithful flocked despite their precious Jedi failing them time and time again. They prayed and denied themselves modern amenities, all in the name of maintaining some cherry-picked dogma that they claimed adhered to the ‘old ways’. Despite his distracted fuming, it didn’t take long to obtain the information he needed. Ren caught a Zabrak eyeing him nervously over a basin of dirtied water. 

 

She was tawny skinned with eight small points adorning the crown of her head. She lacked the tattoos and facial markings that many of her kin bore. He suspected she was a native, then. Maybe a slave or indentured servant escaped from one of the world’s many junk lords and come to this holy place for respite. Severed from her own culture at birth. 

 

When her golden eyes met his own she took a staggering step backwards, then broke into a run. 

 

“Rey!” Kylo shouted, alerting her to the situation, then gave chase. He could feel Rey through their bond as he hunted, stalking his prey, a wraith in black. She was running for him, something like fear bleeding into his mind. _Did she worry for his safety?_

 

Not that he needed the aid of his wife. The Zabrak was scrappy and untrained, only kicking and spitting at him once he had cornered her at the crux of two shacks. 

 

He froze her then, reaching out and locking each of her flailing limbs in place; her arms were held stiffly at her sides, and with a flick of his pointer and middle fingers she fell to her knees. 

 

Now, in the shade of the hovels, her eyes looked less golden and more muddy brown. Her pupils were blown wide with fear and her breath came out ragged, torn from her heaving chest in gulping gasps. The fear rose off of her like steam from boiling water, passing under his flaring nostrils and feeding his own twisted satisfaction.

 

“Who are you?” He questioned flatly. 

 

She bared her yellowed teeth then spat, the slide of her saliva trailing down the toe of his boot, taking the Jakku dirt with it. He sniffed, glancing downward with in mild annoyance, but paid the slight little mind. 

 

Kylo’s lips parted, preparing to give his usual preamble to mind manipulation, but he was halted before a single word fell past his chapped lips. The Zabrak emitted a low, guttural whine from the back of her parched throat, her body contorting at an odd angle; arms spread from her sides like half opened wings and fingers curled like twisted claws swiping desperately at thin, unyielding air. 

 

The woman’s gaze had shifted past him, over his dark shoulder to behold something much more terrible than he. Her eyes were no longer flooded with simple fear, but beset by all consuming terror. It twisted her expression and soured her pretty features. Her face bore the shadow of a creature who was looking onto the visage of death itself, and she wept with the horror of it. She choked on her tears as her windpipe began to constrict. 

 

Ren spun on heel, knowing what he would find lurking behind him. But he found himself woefully unprepared for the sight that awaited him. Rey, dark, beautiful, and terrible, stood there with a single hand raised, her fist squeezing as she tortured her victim. Her brow was furrowed, eyes alight with something beyond his recognition. Her pretty lips were curled into a menacing grimace and he knew that she was taking some small pleasure in tearing the Zabrak to shreds. 

 

He watched, dumbstruck by this sudden show of pure malevolence. He hadn’t known such darkness lived in this woman. 

 

Ren looked back to the scavenger. Her head had tilted backwards, and only the whites of her fluttering eyes were visible. A rivulet is crimson dropped from her nose, following the curve of her full lip as her brain was picked apart piece by piece, poked and prodded until every nerve in the woman’s body sang a song of biting agony. 

 

Then she jerked backwards further, her neck twisting at an unnatural angle, giving a resounding and blood chilling _snap_. Behind Kylo, Rey relaxed, releasing a long breath and letting the tension rush from her muscles so fervently that he felt it. 

 

“Her name was Nesta,” Rey exposited, stepping forward and toeing the body. She grimaced in disgust, as if the corpse had offended her. 

 

“She was a friend of Tekka. She visited his hut just this morning, in fact.” 

 

“What good does that do us?” He hissed, eyeing the corpse where it lay twisted and bloody in the dirt, “What good does a dead body do us?” 

 

Rey scowled and strutted past him dismissively, navigating the winding, trash strewn walkways like she was familiar with them, BB-9E trailing behind her and beeping in a way that Ren could only construe as pompous. She exuded a deadly confidence, one he didn’t want to disturb, though the urge to kick the droid following her like a loyal mutt was difficult to contain. 

 

“I tore her apart, Ren. When she left Tekka’s home a man passed by her. Dark curly hair, handsome, tan and wearing a leather jacket. A good lead.” 

 

“And did you manage to glean Tekka’s location before you killed her?” He groused, thoroughly annoyed with Rey’s blasé attitude and general disrespect. 

 

She stopped abruptly, swiveling to face a domed hovel of wooden frame. It’s walls were a patchwork of aged leather and rusted scrap. It must’ve been unbearably hot inside with the Jakku sun beating down so brutally. 

 

“Here.” 

 

“Should we knock, _my lady_.” Ren mocked wryly. Rey had taken control of this mission without so much as an affirmative nod from him; her superior. Now wasn’t the time to argue, he would address this later, in the privacy of their quarters. No matter how piqued he may have been, they had an objective, a time sensitive one. He wouldn’t foil it and earn the Supreme Leader’s ire, especially when the Resistance was involved. Any failure could be perceived as an intentional move to aid Leia Organa. 

 

Rey didn’t even deign to scoff at his jape, gliding past him and through the flap door like a phoenix over the blazing sands. 

 

Kylo followed, forced to duck awkwardly where his wife had been all grace. 

 

Inside the hovel was just as meager as it had appeared outwardly, and it was sweltering. But Ren’s attention was quickly drawn away from his discomfort and to the old man sat at a small wooden table. 

 

Lor San Tekka. 

 

He was calm. Fingers laced in his lap like he had been patiently awaiting their arrival. Perhaps he had been. 

 

He smiled at them, and feigned ignorance, mocking them openly, “How can I help you?” 

 

Rey seemed content to let Kylo take the lead this time. Pursing her lips and glowering at the hermit. 

 

“The map to Skywalker,” Ren demanded, raising a steady hand and pulling the man violently from his seat. Tekka winced in pain as his knees crunches against the hard packed earth, “Give it to me.” 

 

Tekka looked at him, eyes roaming the planes of his long face, cutting into him, laying his insides bare beneath a knowing gaze, scrutinizing all that he was. 

 

“You won’t do it.” Tekka smiled, there was no malice behind the the words, only conviction that was laid heavy with pity. “You can’t deny the truth that is your family.” 

 

Kylo froze, held in place by his words, caught in the brevity of his stare. 

 

Rey moved behind him, sensing his falter and raising a hand to do what she thought he could not. 

 

He beat her to it, collecting himself with a deep, steadying breath, then tearing into Tekka’s mind like claws through brittle paper. 

 

A follower of the church of the force, the man was devout. Not only a Resistance sympathizer, but a loyal an ardent defender of Luke Skywalker, the last of the Jedi. It only kindled Ren’s rage. The wretch presumed to understand his motivations, and fittingly saw no flaw in Skywalker’s own convictions. 

 

“You’re so right.” He chided in a quick riposte, and then he released his saber from his belt and cleaved the man in two with a blade of spitting crimson. 

 

From the dead man’s mind he had plucked that morning’s events. The man Rey had referenced— _called handsome_ — was called Poe Dameron. Ren had only heard of him in passing. His parents were rebellion heroes and now he was a renowned pilot. 

 

Kylo glanced at Rey and found her watching him, suspicion glinting behind those hardened honey eyes. He realized then what he had said, what his words could be taken to imply. 

 

_You won’t do it._

 

_You can’t deny the truth that is your family._

 

_You’re so right._

 

He hadn’t meant— she must have known that he was being sordidly facetious. And yet..,

 

He broke the tension, jumping into a enthusiastic recounting of the information he had collected.

 

“That man you saw in the Zabrak’s mind was called Poe Dameron. A Resistance pilot. He fled not long before our arrival,” he gulped, taking pause to fortify his own composure at the memory of _how_ Dameron had escaped, “He stole a Corellian freighter. He’s heading for Takodana, the reason is unclear, but I suspect it's an intentional move, one meant to keep us from discovering the location of the Resistance base. They’re rather secretive for a faction of the Republic’s military. They were formed with the express purpose of combating the rise of The First Order.”

 

“They failed.” Rey chided coldly, his explanation might as well have fallen on deaf ears. Rey already knew the stories, the histories. “Though, I must applaud your mother for her persistence in the face of such overwhelming adversity.”

 

“She’s quite tenacious, isn’t she…” It was only once the thought had trailed off into nothingness that Kylo realized exactly what he had just implied. 

 

 _Mother_.

 

Rey watched him still, eyes sharp and cold. He shuddered under her gaze.

↤↦

Rey woke that morning with a bitter taste in her mouth and a heavy weight pressing insistently over her chest. She had awoken in the dead of the night cycle, brought from sleep by a dream of a family living isolated in the shifting sands, and wept.

 

She knew that Ren had heard her, she had felt him stir awake through their bond. He had watched on silently, had made no move to offer comfort or solace. But what had she expected from such a petulant, sniveling lap dog? Patience? Understanding? He had only raked his cruel fingers over her mind in an attempt to glean the catalyst of her episode. He thought she hadn’t felt it. She had. 

 

Awake and still sore between her thighs, she could hear her husband making use of the amenities of their shared ‘fresher, and she was left blissfully alone.

 

She unzipped her bag, procuring her usual robes, the high collared ones that would hide the bruises that still marred her throat so tellingly. They had only seemed to worsen since the night before, new blood still gathering beneath her damaged skin. 

 

Rey had gathered her datapad and perched on the foot of the bed, eager to respond to Hux’s volley of questions from the day before. She was stopped, her finger stilling over the screen. There, at the top, was a single notification that stood out from the others: **sender unknown**. She pressed the tip of her finger tentatively to it. 

 

When it opened it only read a scant few words, all compounded into a single sentence that made her stomach drop.

 

**I know you’ll love him.**

 

The resentment that swelled in the pit of her stomach may have been unwarranted, but the irrationality of it did nothing to stop the torrent as it rushed through her veins, setting them ablaze, raising a flush to her skin and a thin sheen of sweat over her palms. 

 

It seemed that Rose had been true to her word, she had delivered Rey’s message to Leia Organa, and the woman had taken the time to supply an answer to a rhetorical statement. It wasn’t meant to mock, to make a fool of Rey. Leia Organa was too dignified to do such a thing. It was an earnest plea from mother to wife, a last ditch effort to save her baby, her son. 

 

Rey hated them for it; mother _and_ child. Leia for reaching out with such sincerity, whose goal of saving Ren ultimately aligned with Rey’s own— for the time being. But more so than Leia, she despised her own husband for the family he had rejected, the choices he had made where she had none. She had been stolen while Ben Solo had willingly become Kylo Ren. 

 

Now, as she walked through Tuanul, a place where members of the Church of the Force had coagulated into a blood clot of pomp and ignorance, she couldn’t help but hate them too. It was with every rational fiber of her being that she held herself back, restrained herself when she wanted nothing more than to cut every last resident down. 

 

 _How dare they._ How could they not have known? How could a child so inherently gifted with the force escape their notice? She had been but a matter of miles away, a short speeder ride to the skeleton of an AT-AT, one that had once been a home. 

 

Kylo had returned to the cruiser, giving little argument when she announced that she wished to remain a few moments longer. Their mission may have been time sensitive, but her husband was ashamed of himself; his weakness had shown through this day, rather conveniently considering the message she had received in the night, and still he wallowed over what he had done. When he looked at her she swore he could see the smattering of bruises through her collar. 

 

She approached a small tent like structure on the edge of the village, under which a tiny, hobbling man was worrying over a small collection of derelict speeders. They looked dangerous, hardly functional, but Rey needed to keep her visit quick, she didn’t have the time to walk the distance, so she would risk it. 

 

He stopped his work as she drew near, the high fabric roof of the pavilion casting telling shadows over her grave features. He shifted nervously from one foot to the other— he favored the left one, she observed— and wiped the sweat from his bald head with an oil blackened rag. 

 

“How can I help you…” He stuttered uncertain how he should address her. She obviously didn’t belong here, and the lightsaber on her belt spoke the truth of her identity. There was only one Jedi left in the whole of the galaxy, and it he was not a twenty-one year old woman who wore all black and had eyes like tempered steel. It was only a matter of time before they found the bodies, and Rey took full advantage of his momentary pause. 

 

“ _You will give me a speeder_ ,” she supplied, reaching gently into the man's mind and planting her will firmly in his skull, “ _You will give me a speeder and then you will forget that I was ever here_.” 

 

“I will give you a speeder,” he parroted, “I will give you a speeder and then I will forget that you were ever here.” 

 

He extended his hand towards the most complete of the bunch, the safest bet, and Rey took to it without another word. He would do as she had bid, he would forget, and when the bodies were found he would know nothing of her or her destination, only that one of his speeders was gone. It was not retribution of a magnitude Rey found fit to match their crimes, but it would do, _for the time being_. 

 

Rey threw the speeder into gear and was gone, spitting up a column of sand and dust behind her as she let the force and her memory guide her towards her destination. 

 

The last time she had been to Jakku she was fourteen and desperate for answers; they hadn’t been satisfactory, hardly any revelation at all. No names, no faces beyond the mummified corpses of people long left to the arid desert climate. Still she had ached. That was the first time she had found solace with Armitage, where her family had perished he had been a gift. Sometimes she wondered if the living force had sent him to her to guide her through her pain, her suffering, and ultimately her righteous fury. 

 

Now wasn’t the time for such ponderance. She had passed Nima outpost, a place where scavengers were trapped beneath the thumb of a lecherous junk lord, slavery in all but name. She would punish him too, when the time was right. 

 

Once the dim lights of the tiny settlement had faded into the dying light of dusk, she saw it on the horizon. Then closer, closer, ever closer, until she was mere feet from it. The corpse of an AT-AT, fallen in the last days of the Rebellion. It spoke to the duality of sentient species that such a terrible machine of war and genocide could be made into a home. 

 

_Fourteen, she stumbled through its hatch, rusted from years of disuse. She thought little of it, the way it creaked under her hands as she shoved it aside with such innocent hope glittering behind her watery eyes. Maybe, just maybe…_

 

Rey slid from the speeder, and walked slowly towards the metal structure. She was shaking, she realized, but not from the chill of the looming desert night. She remembered still what she had found within. 

 

_It was stupid to hope, she told herself as she hit her knees, felt them split against the rusted floor. It may have been dark within, but the outward light of Jakku shone through the newly opened door and illuminated the terrible sight. All of her hope died in that moment, all childish naivete rushed from her and spilled like crimson blood over the sand and scrap._

 

She choked back a sob as she pressed a firm hand to that same hatch. It opened easily now, she had grown stronger in those seven years. It looked much the same inside, picked over by scavengers long before she had returned the first time. All that remained were the rotting remains of two hammocks, five thousand one hundred and ten marks scratched into the far wall, and a makeshift cradle; crafted from scrap. Whatever sort of ragged blankets it may have been lined with were gone now. But when she knelt beside it she was surprised that the toy was still there. 

 

_The first thing she saw were the bodies. Mummified and terrible, their mouths agape, eye sockets empty where the flies had picked them clean. She hadn’t cried, only collapsed beside the one that had been her mother and pulled its head into her lap. That was the sight Hux beheld when he finally caught up to her, Rey, fourteen and traumatized, braiding a corpses brittle hair. Then there was her father, collapsed over her brother, a boy no older than seven— his true age wasn’t clear— where he had died defending his son. That Rey’s mother had been clutching at the edge of the cradle had only occurred to her later, once Hux had dragged her away._

 

The bodies were gone now, buried deep in the sand, Hux had seen to it personally. Rey removed the doll from the cradle; a rough semblance of a rebellion fighter pilot constructed from various colored fabrics. Armitage had forbid her from taking all those years ago, for fear that she would be caught with it and punished. 

 

She ran her thumb over the dirtied face of it, and a sob broke from her chest, unbidden. She would take it this time. She already kept so many secrets, she could keep one more. She clutched it to her chest and looked to the wall, five thousand one hundred and ten tiny tallies stared blankly back at her. That was something Hux had allowed, sitting by her all night as she carved a mark for each lost day; fourteen years worth of them. 

 

_“Take this pain,” Hux had whispered as she carved until her hands cramped and her fingers bled from repeated slips of the knife, “And make it your whetstone. Remember these thousands of days, and all those that will come after. Someday you will have your vengeance. Someday you will Make. Them. Pay.”_

 

She didn’t have the time to etch in another seven years worth, not today, but she would come back, she had so much unfinished business in this place. She still had a scar on her left hand, between her thumb and pointer finger, where the knife had cut deep. 

 

Rey took a long, final look at the place where she had been born, and then stepped back out into the cooling sands with the doll still clutched close to her chest. She used the force to close the weathered hatch behind her, tightly enough to keep out the sand and scavengers. Then she knelt over the place where they were buried deep enough that the wind would never disturb them, and she ghosted her fingers over the monument of scrap she had placed. 

 

_Nothing more than a piece of wall paneling. But it was all they hand, and Hux told her that it was enough. That she had come back for them, had grieved them when she could have readily celebrated their deaths, was enough to put to rest wayward spirits. She etched four figures into its surface, stick figures, but still recognizable as two adults and two children. A part of rey wished she was buried with them, but she supposed that her inclusion on the headstone was enough. She wedged it deep into the sand and prayed that it wouldn’t be swallowed up, that the storms wouldn’t blast its surface smooth and clean._

 

The figures were still there. Her family. A father, a brother, _a mother_. All nameless, ageless. The reports hadn’t been thorough. Why would they be? Three dead scavengers meant nothing to The First Order, to The Supreme Leader. The agents had procured the infant girl, that was all that mattered. The rest was pointless semantics. Her family had been nothing but collateral. 

 

Rey had given them faces as a child, and she remembered them still. The woman would have looked like her, probably young, nineteen or twenty, with chestnut hair and freckles. The man was older, taller, broader, with dark hair and eyes. The son was a perfect blend of the two. And she had been herself, Rey, but smaller and pinker. Maybe she wasn’t really Rey, maybe she had borne a different name before she was stolen away. 

 

Her moment of somber remembrance was suddenly cut short. All sound was sucked from the air, and she could hear her own heartbeat echoing into the silence. 

 

“ _Rey_?” Kylo spoke, and she stood up from her knees, swiping hastily at her eyes as she turned and faced him. 

 

It was only once she glimpsed him there, confused, with not an ounce of malice etched into his long features; that she realized what she had done. He was the man in the AT-AT, and she was the woman. The yarne she had spun was her own girlish fantasy, what she had hoped for herself. It wasn’t the truth, but she had always known that. 

 

They had been nobody. They had no faces, no names, just Rey’s petty grief to keep them alive. She sobbed and Ren reeled, confusion shifting into sudden, uncharacteristic worry. 

 

“ _Where are you_?” His voice was heavy with urgency, but Rey couldn't fill her heaving lungs with enough air to respond. 

 

She was a child still, it seemed, still clinging to the machinations of a girl who knew _nothing_ of the galaxy that she had been born into. 

 

“ _I’m coming to find you_.” 

 

He did find her eventually, lying on her side, a doll clutched to her chest, shivering against the frigid night as hot tears warmed her cheeks. 

 

She hadn’t been able to stand, the grief was too great, the bereavement too fresh, so he had scooped her into his arms and carried her back into the safety of their ship. 

 

He didn’t take the doll from her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooooo. Tell me what you think? This one was kind of an emotional roller coaster, huh. 
> 
> Also, don't worry, Kylo _will_ be getting his just desserts eventually. Give it a few chapters. I know some of you are chomping at the bit but you need to give me some time to build up to it. ;)


	12. perfumed water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soft times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Important note** : I love when people rec my fics to their friends, its amazing and helps spread my writing! It's a wonderful thing, and I really do appreciate it. But please, if you're going to share this fic, adequately warn your friends beforehand. I don't like being lambasted by moral granstanders. This fic really isn't for everyone, it's dark, and gritty, and uncomfortable. So please, if you share, warn your friends first.

Ren was uncertain as to what he had just borne witness to. The scene itself was obvious; Rey curled in on herself, sobbing, clutching a poorly constructed, withering doll to her chest. All of it cast in the eerie dimming light of Jakku’s setting sun. The dunes cast long shadows, and the dusk brought with it a sudden inescapable chill.

 

It wasn’t the visage that perplexed him— not completely— but the mysterious catalyst that had brought such a proud, resilient creature to her knees. 

 

Once he had delivered her safely to the cruiser, with BB-9e worrying over her like a mother hen, he had returned to the downed AT-AT. It’s insides told a story, one that he could only catch glimpses of. A crib in the corner, a half rotted hammock hanging from the ceiling, and what must’ve been thousands of tiny tally marks etched into the far wall. They didn’t follow the common system of four followed by a diagonal slash; they were all singular, evenly spaced, and impossible to count. 

 

What was this place? What had it been? What importance did it hold for Rey that she would come here, interrupting a critical mission, only to fall apart? 

 

The outside painted a clearer picture. Buried halfway in the sand was a piece of scrap blown smooth and glossy by time and sand, though some of its details seemed to have weathered the years. It was a crude stick figure family, scratched into the metal’s surface with the same rough hand as the tallies had been. Four little people, two even littler than the others. He wondered if one was meant to be Rey. 

 

Was this where Rey had been born? A junk heap in the middle of the desert on a backwater planet? An odd place for the First Order to go talent scouting, he mused. 

 

He had met her once, as a squalling infant. He had only been nine at the time— still called Ben by most— and the memory had begun to fade, but she had seemed so new then. Even if this was her birthplace, and those figures were meant to be her family, why did it matter? She couldn’t possibly remember them. _Not like…_

 

Kylo shook the intrusive thoughts from his head and returned to the ship. Eager to leave this place behind… and begrudgingly worried about his wife. 

 

Once inside he ordered BB-9e to set immediate course for Takodana— time was running out. Then he made his way to the spacious quarters he shared with Rey, where he had left her before his investigation. 

 

She had stopped crying and had rolled from her side to her back. One arm was thrown haphazardly over her eyes and the other still clutched the doll to her chest. He could see now in the artificial lighting that it was a poor, dirty replica of a Rebellion pilot. He scowled, but didn’t comment. Now wasn’t the time to hurl accusations of treason. 

 

Her attempt at a clam facade was a pathetic one. Her breath still tore from her chest in ragged puffs, and her skin was still ruddy and raw from tears and sand. 

 

“Rey…” He wasn’t sure what to say, what was expected of him. Likely she didn’t expect anything from him after all that he had done. Still, he was possessed by some irrational and compulsive need to lend _comfort_. 

 

“Did—” She hiccuped, “Did you close the hatch?”

 

It took Kylo a long moment to comprehend what her quavering query. With all that was taking place, she was fretting over… _an open door_?

 

“I don’t think—”

 

Another wave on inconsolable sobbing overtook her, and Ren recoiled on instinct. He had never been placed in a situation like this before, he had never experienced any grief but his own. He didn’t cry, he never allowed himself to, not since Snoke had finally liberated him from what remained of his broken family. 

 

He had only been twelve. 

 

Kylo stared, irresolute. This was his wife, a crying woman, wasn’t it his job to do something? That’s what good husbands did, good men. He was neither it seemed. 

 

It took BB-9e warbling from the doorway to spur him into action. First he slammed his palm against the door panel, shutting it to prevent the insufferable ball droid from attempting to enter and offer mechanical condolences. 

 

Then, ignoring Rey in a way that might have been perceived as cruel— he _was_ building to something— he strode to the ‘fresher, making straight for the massive tub and punching his desired temperature into its controls. Hot, but not scalding. Warm enough to comfort and soothe sore muscles, but not enough to burn. 

 

Then he took stock of the many perfumes and oils that surrounded the wide rim in their conspicuous little bottles. They had been placed here with intentions that were far different from his own, but they might still prove useful. He took care to sniff each bottle before he sprinkled some of its contents into the rising water, only adding the sweet smelling ones and the oils that claimed to ease stress on their labels. 

 

Once he had added sufficient supplements he hastily removed his tunic, freeing his arm to reach in and stir the aromatic water. It bubbled a bit, covering the surface with a pleasant, perfunctory layer of lather. 

 

Ren stood, damp, and reentered the room where Rey lay oblivious to his machinations. She had curled in on herself again, a position hardly befitting an empress, but now wasn’t the time to scrutinize. 

 

Kylo reached forward to pry the doll from her fingers and the squeal she emitted was ungodly, followed by another wave of wracking sobs. 

 

“Rey,” he pleaded, “Rey, I won’t harm it, just put it down, I drew a bath.”

 

“I don’t want to take a _kriffing_ bath, you oaf!” She snarled, raising her head just enough to expose her bared teeth and fierce expression, though the warrior goddess image was subdued by her puffy eyes. 

 

He wouldn’t take no for an answer. He lunged, gathering her in his arms as she spat and struggled and kicked against him, dropping the damned doll in the squabble. 

 

“Stop!” He was struggling to keep his grip on her. He didn’t want to drop her, to damage her when she was already so fragile. 

 

“No!”

 

“Damn it, Rey! Let me help you!” he projected his intent across their bond, and when she felt no malice she stilled in his arms, letting her head fall into the crook of his neck and shoulder. He couldn’t ignore the way her jilted breath ghosted warm over his bare skin, the way her tears rolled over his skin like rain. 

 

Then her limpness gave way to an all consuming weariness, and he knew that she no longer possessed the energy necessary to cry any longer. 

 

He set her down on the lid of the toilet, holding her shoulders until he was certain she wouldn’t collapse onto the floor. 

 

“Strip.” Ren requested, and when she cringed at the memory of that same word spoken on their wedding night—albeit with different connotation and intent—guilt cut through Ren’s chest like a cold knife. He gently gripped her knee, offering an apologetic glance as he corrected himself; “I mean… the bath… you don’t want—”

 

“I know what you meant.” Still her face was pale and drawn as she began to undress. 

 

Kylo stood to leave, deciding that Rey could handle the rest on her own. He had done his part. 

 

“No.” Her voice cracked behind him and he stopped. “Stay.” 

 

He pivoted to face her, weary eyed, and found her stripped to her tawny skin with one foot halfway in the tub. Her eyes were full of teary entreaty, “ _Please_.” 

 

Ren paused, watching as Rey sank neck deep into the water and shut her eyes, lowering until only the upper half of her face was above the foamy surface. Despite her nose being unobstructed, Kylo was struck by the sudden sense that she might try to drown herself in despair. 

 

Snoke would be livid if his chosen Emperor returned empressless due to Ren’s own naivete and neglect. 

 

Certainly it was fear of his master’s ire that compelled him to step forward and join her in the bath, nothing else, he wasn’t deluding himself. He stepped in, still clothed from the waist down for fear of frightening her, and cringed as the already tight fabric stuck to his skin.

 

Rey shifted upward and opened her eyes, studying him over the water’s rippling surface. He lowered his gaze, suddenly unable to hold her stare, but that proved to be a mistake. His eyes dropped to her throat, where a smattering of bruises was waiting for him, and he blanched, suddenly feeling acutely ill. 

 

Rey narrowed her eyes, following his gaze to her own throat. 

 

“I—”

 

“ _Don’t_.” 

 

A beat of silence passed. Ren felt a nervous bead of sweat slip down the side of his face. 

 

“It was going to happen whether I liked it or not. I shouldn’t have expected kindness or gentleness from you.”

 

Did she really think so little of him? He opened his mouth to protest but she halted him, using the force to give him a slight shove so that his back dug uncomfortably into the rim. He deserved much worse, he knew, and she projected as much over the bond. 

 

“As a girl I idolized you, held you to an impossible standard. I imagined a prince, a dark knight who— when the time came— would come and take away the ceaseless loneliness that followed me always, haunted my dreams.” 

 

Her voice lowered, like she was preparing to share with him an intimate secret, “You saw that place, the AT-AT, the grave,” another sob strangled in her throat, but she struggled past it, past the grief that welled in her honied eyes, “I always wanted a family, and through thorough investigation, I found them. But they were gone when I got here, long dead. I was finally home, and I had no memories of them, _nothing_. So I created my own.”

 

She threw her head and laughed, light like windchimes, the sweet sound belied the tears that streaked hot and fast over her cheeks. 

 

“But, get this, it was never them!” 

 

Ren reached out to offer comfort, _she was breaking_ , but she swatted him away. The sordid joy washed away, replaced by long shadows that darkened her eyes into deep swirling brown. 

 

“They could have been anyone, Kylo. They were nobody.” No more tears, no more manic laughter, only a chord of deep running pain. It hung from her words on a noose of loss and isolation. “What I imagined— what I realized today— was what I knew, or what I thought I did. A mother, a father, _a child_. Me, you, and our… _a_ baby. A family, what I thought I wanted.”

 

Kylo sucked in a sharp breath through his clenched teeth. His jaw was set and the muscle twitched and jumped when he swallowed. All of this, it was too much. How did one contend with childish fantasies that they themselves were responsible for squandering? 

 

Rey acted before he could, dropping her forehead to meet her knee just above the water’s surface, “That was my folly,” she breathed, the action rippling the water. It rolled in tiny waves towards him in a way that felt accusatory. “Not yours.” 

 

He swallowed hard around the lump that had lodged itself so deeply in his throat. The confession only served to magnify his guilt, the shame that roiled in his gut. He had ruined this woman, shattered her fragile, hopeful image of him and violated her to add insult to injury; or perhaps the opposite.

 

He couldn’t apologize for what he was. Rey had wanted Ben Solo, and she had been faced with Kylo Ren.

 

Still, _what he had done to her…_

 

“I still shouldn’t—” he gulped, “I shouldn’t have treated you so violently.”

 

Rey smirked at him, mirth overtaking her sorrow, and for a moment Kylo feared she was breaking all over again. “I gave as good as I got. Emotionally, as it were.” 

 

That was right. _Ben_. She had referred to him by a dead boy’s name and supplied dark encouragements for him to go _harder_. She had played him, weakened him and broken his brutal hold over her. Rey gave as good as she got. 

 

And then they had both retreated to their respective safeties and cried like lost children. 

 

They were a matched pair of shattered things. Two pieces of a splintered mirror reflecting back on one another. Both of them had been failed by their families, in one way or another. 

 

He leaned forward, lifting a heavy hand hesitantly, and Rey’s breath caught in her chest as he trailed the backs of his knuckles along her cheekbone. The contact set his skin alight, and he shook with the sensation. 

 

Kylo realized that she was beautiful. 

 

“Listen to me, Rey.” He whispered, low and wanting, “Let the past die, kill it if you have to. Forget them, they were nobody. Let them go so you can become what you were always meant to be.” 

 

He bridged their minds projected images to her, flashes of what could be. The two of them undressed, caught in the throes of passion in a shared bed of scarlet silk. A dark haired son, small, precious, an off color iteration of her own childish wants. The two of them bowed before Snoke, receiving his blessing and basking in his pride at their accomplishments as they genuflected. 

 

Rey shuddered and recoiled from him; and his disappointment in her overtook all of his twisted hope. 

 

She wouldn’t let go, not like he had. Rey was too weak.

↤↦

Her husband rose from their bath when she retreated from his twisted fantasies. For a moment he had thought they shared in them, that Rey would be content bowing to Snoke, letting the old master take their child from them and corrupt him. Rey would never submit; she would die before any of those things could come to fruition. She’d sooner cut a fetus from her womb than let her baby fall into Snoke’s knotted, molesting fingers. She remembered that day in the throne room. Ren shot full of lightning. That would _never_ happen to her son.

 

“I need to call for reinforcements,” He half lied, it was a need, but also an excuse to flee “Takodana will be crawling with Resistance fighters, we’ll need ground troops to handle them while we track down Dameron.” 

 

“Okay.” 

 

Kylo left the door open as he strode away, and she took a moment to appreciate the way the fabric of his pants clung to his ass and thighs before wondering why. With a tentative brush at the back of his mind she found a plaintive thought; he was afraid she might harm herself. It baffled her. 

 

He wanted to be able to hear her, unobstructed by a door. 

 

That was… unexpected. 

 

“Kylo,” she called out as he stepped over the threshold. He halted, waiting without turning to acknowledge her. “Thank you.” 

 

His breath caught in his chest. She heard it, the subtle hitch in his breathing. Saw the way his shoulders stumbled in their rhythmic rise and fall. And then he walked away. 

 

Rey sank back into the warm lapping water. Inhaling deeply of its sweet scent and shutting her tired eyes. 

 

The day had been agonizing, hot and painful. Yet here she was, alive despite the agony, despite the carnage of years past. Rey lived. She would keep on living until her revenge was had. 

 

That was the part of the story that she hadn’t shared with her husband, _couldn’t_. Her kidnapping, the murder of her family, the years of isolation, all of that had been Snoke’s will. The Supreme Leader’s own orders had incited her suffering. 

 

Her fists tightened at her sides, fingernails biting into her pruning palms, grief giving way to fury. 

 

_All in due time._

 

Rey regained her composure through the use of fragrant soaps and oils that claimed to relieve stress on their labels. She scrubbed her skin and hair thoroughly, like she might wash away the hurts, like the cleansing water might chase away the shadows. 

 

When she had finally finished soaking and wrapped herself in a towel— black, suited to Kylo’s taste more than her own— she glanced at the chrono to find that several hours had slipped by, water through her fingers. Time that could would have been better spent strategizing with Kylo, planning for what they might find on Takodana, or updating Hux on her _evolving_ situation. 

 

Rey hoped the bruises would be faded by the time she saw him next. She could hardly pass them off as war wounds, not when they so clearly took the shape of handprints. If Hux tried to confront Ren— and he most certainly would, their relationship was already so antagonistic— he would be crushed, torn in half by a blade of crimson fury. 

 

She sighed and stepped out into the chill cycled air of their quarters. Kylo was asleep on their bed, sprawled out haphazardly over the sheets and duvet, _naked_. He had peeled his damp pants from his thighs and tossed them unceremoniously onto the floor. 

 

Her initial plan had been to slide into one of her shifts before joining Ren under the covers. Now she was possessed by the sudden urge to join him in this moment of vulnerability. She dropped her towel, leaving it with his discarded clothing. Rey joined him on the mattress, taking care not to disturb him. 

 

She laid on her stomach, crossing her arms over a pillow and under her head. Her eyes roamed over him, his face, his skin. 

 

He was handsome, in an odd, unconventional way. His face was long, but soft and lean, with deep set eyes that could tear a person in two with their intensity. His body was muscular, but not gratuitously so. He was large, built, but there was a roundness to him that implied healthy eating and adequate hydration. Lower still, between his corded thighs, his penis was nestled in a thatch of wiry, dark hair. Soft and unobtrusive. It was almost cute.

 

Rey flushed and ground her teeth, taken aback by the desire to wake him up and _fuck_ him. It was unbidden and intrusive, but it set her skin alight and quickened her breath nonetheless. She turned away from him, wrapping her arms around her midsection and breathing deeply to steady herself. 

 

Kylo might not have been a prince, but whatever he was, whoever he was, _she wanted him_.


	13. lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo sees a familiar face on Takodana, and both he and Rey may pay for his indiscretion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *it's britney bitch*
> 
> warning for unadulterated droid violence.
> 
> also this chapter is 32 pages long yIKEs

Takodana loomed beneath them. The emerald green of its forests interrupted by speckles of deep blue lakes, all encompassed in a great, churning ocean. It was beautiful, Rey thought. A wonderful change of landscape after a day spent in Jakku’s endless red wastes. 

 

They were here to destroy it. 

 

When they had come out of hyperspace they were joined by the _Finalizer_ , with all of her infantry, gunners, and TIE fighters. All of The First Order’s mighty wrath was about to be unleashed upon this tiny, inconspicuous speck of blue-green dust in the western reaches. 

 

There would be some resistance certainly, and the planet’s most prominent resident would be none too pleased by the disturbance, but any level of resistance would ultimately prove futile. 

 

That resident was Maz Kanata. A tiny orange humanoid and self styled ‘pirate queen’. It was her castle that they would assault. She had known dealings with both the Resistance and one _Han Solo_ in the past. Rey hadn’t spoken of the latter, lest she invoke another outburst in her volatile companion. 

 

It was almost enough to bring a tear to Rey’s eye. The loss of such beauty and history. Maz’s castle was nigh on a millennia old and had seen an equal number of salient, galaxy altering events unfold in and around its ancient halls. Today it would be pummeled into dust. With the sheer numbers they commanded victory was assured. 

 

Whatever the place might have been before was irrelevant. It now existed as a safe haven for low lives and smugglers, the self styled ‘pirate queen’ had degraded herself so. How fitting that the Resistance should take up residence as well, Rey mused. 

 

Kylo noticed her smirk and commented dryly, “Eager to strike?” 

 

Her face split into a full grin. Predatory, a raptor staring down at her prey, shadow looming as it scurried for cover. Now, with the star destroyer hanging over their world, they must have been levieing their defenses. 

 

_Good_. it wouldn’t be nearly as fun if they didn’t put up a fight. Though she doubted it would be anything more than a few barricades and a ragtag army of cutthroats and hungover, low rate smugglers. There were less than one million permanent residents who called Takodana their home, anything they could muster would pale in comparison to the might of the Order. 

 

Kylo appeared much less excited than she. He stood in the cockpit, fingers laced behind his back, looking out over the swirl of emerald and sapphire as they descended. His brow was furrowed, his handsome face lined with something like apprehension. 

 

“They could be down there, Kylo.” His mother, his father, his uncle. Any number of names and faces he had once known as friends. 

 

He swallowed thickly, but gave no other indication that he had heard her. 

 

Once they docked with the _Finalizer_ their pleasure cruiser was quickly impounded and they were herded to Kylo’s Upsilon class command shuttle. It was a beautiful thing, black and sleek, its wings folded in like a bird perched in waiting.

 

“We’re going to take you down in this, Emperor Ren.” An officer debriefed them as they glided out into open space, just over the faded white haze of the nearing atmosphere. “Several trooper transports will land in conjunction. They will launch a ground assault with aerial support from TIE fighters while your majesties proceed with your mission.” 

 

“Best not fail us,” Kylo groused, revealing the full extent of his prickliness, “If we have to intervene on your behalf—”

 

“He won’t fail us.” Rey cut in, casting Ren a sidelong glance. “He knows what will happen if he does. Ease up, my love.” 

 

She laid a gentle hand on his bicep, feigning affection. Behind the contact was levied a warning, one only Kylo would understand. While the few occupants of the shuttle saw a wife infatuated, Ren felt her tension, her threat.

 

His behavior showed weakness, fear at what they might face when they touched down. If he showed any hesitation, Rey would act in his stead; and it wouldn’t be pleasant. 

 

His eyes narrowed, zeroing in to where she touched his arm. She let her fingers slip away naturally, so as not to drawn attention to the animosity that bubbled between them. 

 

It was a give and take, it seemed. Those few moments of gentleness he had allowed the previous night were fleeting, and again he was the raging tyrant, the cruel warlord keeping his eyes forward, steady, all empathy drained from him, ready to reap the harvest his peons had so dutifully sewn. Still, she remembered his touch, the brush of his hand along her cheek, how his breath had caught in his chest and he had shaken with the sensation borne of the contact. Eyes wide he had shown her the future he hoped for, his alternative to her girlish desires, and when she had recoiled in distaste, he had shuttered himself away again.

 

Whatever he thought of her now he kept well hidden. Giving no outward indication of disdain, but still she felt it there, boiling under his skin. He resented her once more. Again she was nothing more than a rival competing for a place at Snoke’s side. 

 

The transports landed before they did, beginning the ground assault to distract from their own, more discrete landing. TIE’s launched from the _Finalizer’s_ hangars and screamed across the sky, strafing the world below with bolts of brilliant green. They were as beautiful as they were deadly, their titanium hulls glittering in the light of Takodana’s rising sun. 

 

She watched the trooper’s initial lines break into pandemonium as the first waves of rebels and pirates fell on them, but the cretans were no match for the soldiers plated in white. Better armed and better organized, they swept over the castle like a swarm of ants, and in that moment Rey was certain of their victory. 

 

They landed in a grassy meadow, the tall blades of green billowing with the weight and force of their descent. Leaves were shaken from their trees and animals scattered into the density of the forest. The final touchdown was smooth and silent. Kylo was stiff beside her. She could sense his dread at what might lay ahead of them. 

 

She had warned him, and that was all she could give. Now she armoured herself in steely resolve. She would not leave this forsaken backwater without the map to Skywalker. The pilot was a dead man, the map already belonged to her, to _them_.

 

Down the ramp and out into the swealter of Takodana’s dense forest, they encroached like two ebon wraiths on the smolder of Maz’s palace. In the chaos of battle the two of them were hardly noteworthy. Strangers in black, they stalked along dirt trail and trampled shrub.

 

“Split up?” Rey offered, and Ren nodded his silent assent. 

 

They peeled away from one another; Rey to the east and Kylo to the west. Rounding the structure of the castle in search of some sign of the Resistance’s presence. They were everywhere and nowhere; the place reeked of rebellion and yet she could find no outward indication. Battle raged around her, tongues of flame licking at the midday sky as craft were damaged and their fuel cells set alight. The ground beneath her feet shuddered with the intensity of the resounding explosions.

 

She neared the edge of the forest, circling wide so that she might better survey the detritus for signs of life. There were stragglers scrambling about, of varying races and genders, but to Rey they all looked the same; paupers in leather, smugglers in patchwork armor. No one. They didn’t matter. 

 

As she drew nearer the wind seemed to stop, sounds became distorted and the scent of smoke was sucked from the air. She was alone in this place and time, and the world around her hummed with whispers she couldn’t comprehend. There was something here for her, something ancient and mournful. Lips parted, breath heavy, pupils blown and black, she took a step forward towards the smoldering ruin of the castle, towards the voice. It called out to her, beckoning her, and she nearly lost herself to it.

 

Just as abruptly as it had begun, it ended, and Rey was left confused and disoriented. She shook her head and sucked in a sharp breath. Her knees felt weak, her hands shook. The world tilted and spun around her and she tripped over her own feet, stumbling forward with a yelp and landing on her hands and knees. She panted, eyes wide as she flexed her fingers in the dirt, slowly regaining her bearings. Had it been a moment of connection between herself and Kylo? The sensations had been similar, disorientation, distortion of sound; but the voices, the voices were different, new. 

 

She slowly climbed back to her feet, careful to maintain her balance. Her knees quaked and she shuddered as a chill overtook her, gooseflesh rising on her arms. Then she spotted it, beyond a pile of smoking rubble, a flash of orange and white, a splotch of color in the otherwise dreary scene of brown and billowing grey and all worry over her episode melted away. 

 

She stalked like a cat would a mouse, cautious, quiet, but trembling with hungry anticipation. She drew nearer and nearer, until only a heap of ferrocrete and rebar stood between her and a BB series astromech. It was reminiscent of BB-9e, though its colors were brighter and its head a half dome rather than a compressed cylinder. It chirped and rolled nervously on its fat, little body. Back and forth, back and forth, it rocked. It was waiting for something, _someone_. 

 

Rey crouched behind a crumbled pillar and waited, watching with narrowed eyes, honey irises cast red in the light of dying flame. She breathed deeply. The heavy scent of smoke calmed her, the sharp tang of rust, _blood_ , excited her. Here she wasn’t human, she was a hunter, a starving beast laying in wait, eager for her prey to shift _just so_. 

 

With a shout and the sound of pebbled earth crunching beneath heavy boots everything fell into place. 

 

“Beebee-ate!” His voice was as charismatic as his visage. He was hardly touched by the chaos of the raging battle, even more handsome in person than he had been in the memory of Lor San Tekka. But what did an old, pious man know of beauty and sex? 

 

“Beebee-ate,” he was winded, and from her vantage point she could see where he bent and rested his hands on his knees, bowing his head while he caught is breath, “You still got the map?” 

 

The droid whirred and spun excitedly, whistling with such fervor that Rey was nearly lost in the stream of its binary. 

 

It had the map. 

 

“Alright then, let’s move. Han is waiting with the _Falcon_.” He gave a lopsided grin, the laugh lines at his cheeks and eyes only serving to further his attractiveness. “The General will be waiting for us.”

 

The droid hopped excitedly and Poe Dameron spun on his heel, blaster in hand. He strode with a confidence that spoke of perceived invulnerability. 

 

How wrong he was. 

 

Rey loosed a breathy laugh, alarming both man and droid who whirled to meet her as she slid smoothly from the shadows. She was beautiful in the morning light, two shadows splintered out from behind her, one cast in the brilliance of the morning sun, the other by the lick of the raging flames. The world around them burned, but all Dameron could see was her. 

 

There was fear in his eyes. Fear and knowing. 

 

Her saber spat to life in her hand, dual blades singing a sweet song of rage and crimson. She grinned at him. He reeled, eyes reddened by the glow of her lightsaber, visceral dread souring his handsome features. 

 

“You have something I need, Poe Dameron.” She tittered, stepping forward lightly, her feet hardly making a sound on the loose, heat cracked earth. 

 

He shook his head, taking a step backward and raising his blaster from his side, “We don’t have anything for you.”

 

“The map?” A step closer. 

 

“ _No._.” His finger twitched on the trigger. The smooth steel of the blaster’s barrel reflected the swirling flames that crackled around them. 

 

They stood, deadlocked. Rey’s fist clenched at her side as she waited for the pilot to move. His hands shook in a combination of fear and anticipation. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, catching on his jaw before falling to the dust at their feet. Their gazes remained locked, each bidding the other to act, to strike so that they might end this quickly. 

 

He thought he stood a chance. Rey would’ve laughed were the air not so heavy with smoke, sweat, and fear. 

 

Poe burst into action, his blaster discharged, the droid shrieked, and he shouted as Rey fell on him, “Run, Beebee-ate!”

 

Rey feinted left before thrusting right, catching the sleeve of his jacket as he dodged backwards. His blaster discharged, a silver white bolt of light sent screeching past her head, singeing a flyaway hair as she ducked. 

 

She snarled and leapt at him, spinning through the air with feline grace, the tip of her fiery blade ghosting over his jacket again as he reeled. But it wasn’t Poe Dameron she was after, not anymore. The droid had the map, the previous conversation had proved as much. Her saber caught his wrist and the blaster was sent careening away as he shouted in pain, crumbling to the ground. 

 

Rey stopped all at once. Settling back on her heels as Dameron fell into the dust, panting and shuffling as far away as his ailing body could take him, clutching his wrist, eyes never straying from the saber that hummed in the palm of her hand. The red jumped and glittered in his eyes, black pupils blown wide as she encroached on him where he lay prostrate and groping for his blaster. 

 

Her thumb twitched on the hilt of her saber and it was silenced with a _hiss_. 

 

“I’m not going to kill you, Poe Dameron.” She didn’t want to, she still ached from Jakku, and the thought of more needless death tied her stomach in knots. He was a fool. He knew nothing beyond the map existing, he hadn’t seen it. Not long enough to have memorized it, or else they would have destroyed it to keep it out of the hands of the First Order. Plundering his mind would gain her nothing. 

 

No. She wouldn’t kill him. Instead she raised her hand and lifted him with ease, suspending him in the air and constricting her fingers around nothing while he sputtered for breath, clawing at the phantom pressure around his throat. 

 

His movements became weaker, wide eyes grew heavy lidded, face blue, and finally he fell limp. She dropped him, and he struck the earth with a sickening _crunch_ that spoke of broken bone. His chest still rose and fell with shallow breath. Rey left him like that, unconscious, bruises purpling around his throat. 

 

_Now for the damnable droid._

 

She reached out to Ren, offering a warning and description of the target, but she was obstructed by a wall of intense emotion. She couldn’t place it. Nameless and painful it festered between them, muffling her voice. He couldn’t hear her. 

 

Something had disturbed him. He was compromised, _damn him_. She knew this would happen. She didn’t have time to placate her ignoramus husband. Rey could only hope it wasn’t the presence of Han Solo that had disturbed him so. _She knew it was_. Rey launched into action, following the rut the droid had left in the dust in its desperate flight. 

 

It was easy enough to find the thing weaving around the legs of trooper and guerilla alike as it crossed the battlefield, squealing and shrieking all the while. A blaster bolt scathed its side and it cursed the shooter in binary. 

 

Rey fell back, trailing from a distance. At the sight of her stormtroopers knew to make way, the rebels weren’t so smart. She threw obstructors aside with easy flicks of her wrist, and soon they too learned. Still, the battle raged on around her. Men screamed and fell and bled and she couldn't be bothered to care. Her objective took precedent. A thousand of her own could die here, and it would all be worthwhile if she found the map. 

 

She watched as the droid bumped on with steadfast determination, it had an end destination clearly. It knew where it needed to go, and she was curious as to what might lay at the end of its path. In fact, it could be a critical piece of intel. Han Solo would be there, of that she had no doubt; but would Kylo? Had he found his father? Had the man managed to stay his hand?

 

If her husband were so compromised that he had deigned to listen to his father, Snoke would make him suffer. If he had chosen to join the old man, Rey would kill him herself. Everything relied on him, he was the crux of her plan, the sordid love of her life, and she would not be betrayed. 

 

What she found was _something_ , but its level of importance was… uncertain. A freighter of Corellian build. Rusted, it fit well with the collapsed rubble of the fallen castle. There at the foot of its lowered ramp stood Kylo Ren. He was alone, looking passively into the ship, hands limp at his sides. 

 

The droid rolled on. 

 

“Kylo!” Rey shouted, gaining on the astromech. It noticed her and squealed, barreling towards the ramp. 

 

Her husband was shaken from his stupor and looked over his shoulder at her. His brow was furrowed, confused, then his gaze strayed to the droid and realization dawned on his oblong face. 

 

Their sabers spat to life in tandem and the droid curved left, trying to evade them as they converged on it. The attempted escape was futile and it shrieked and spun as Rey descended on it, her saber twirling in her hand as she leapt into the air and swept downwards, her blade would have bisected the droid, cleaved it in two, of it weren’t for the blaster bolt that collided with her side and knocked her from the air.

 

Rey howled, sent sliding on her stomach through mud and blood wet earth. She winced and rolled onto her side, clutching at the wound. Her flesh was ragged and burned black under her palm. 

 

“Ben!”

 

_Oh no_. 

 

The pilot, Poe Dameron, and another, older man raced across the battlefield, shooting their way through kicking aside stormtrooper and criminal alike. Rey tried to stand but Poe— off arm drawn up to his chest, broken— fired again and she ducked to evade it, rolling back onto her stomach. She kept low to the ground and observed, understanding now that this could serve as a proving. 

 

Kylo was frozen, stood still and uncertain, saber raised, poised to strike where the droid had been. Now that place was empty. The BB unit had rolled to meet its master, greeting him with a series of urgent squeals in hurried binary. 

 

“Ben.” Han Solo panted. He was old. In the stories he was always young; tales of the Kessel run, and heroics that won the Rebellion, felled an empire. But here he was, a tired old man, huffing and sweating like any other. He was only a scant few feet away from his son now. 

 

Kylo had lowered his saber to his side, uncertain. His eyes were wide and watery, face contorted in his confliction. Lips parted he sucked in a breath when his father drew close enough to touch. 

 

With Dameron distracted by Han’s proximity to Ren, Rey managed to find her feet. Leaning to one side, clutching at her wound she disengaged her saber, silencing it in favor of watching on passively. The time had come for Kylo to make a choice. 

 

“Ben,” Han extended a hand, fingers shaking as he reached out to his wayward son, “Ben, your mother misses you.” 

 

Kylo winced and retreated from his father, fist tightening around his saber, knuckles straining against the leather of his gloves.

 

“You can come back.” 

 

Rey had expected some long winded preamble, some prattling monologue about redemption and fault; but Han was a practical man, and his offer was equally so. It was grating to see someone of such character hold steadfast loyalty to the enemy, to a failing ideology. The First Order _needed_ people like Han Solo. People like him won wars. 

 

“What are you doing?” Poe hissed, incredulous. His fingers twitched on his blaster. Rey could see where she had mottled his throat, where he had hastily slapped a bacta patch onto his flayed wrist, where his left arm was held to his chest in a poorly made sling. She smiled at her handy work, but that twisted joy melted into nothing all too quickly.

 

Kylo’s expression was one of variance, lips parted and eyes trained on his father's shaking hand. He was actually considering it, taking his father’s hand, leaving everything he had built behind and joining those who had allowed him to be taken. They had practically given the boy to Snoke, nine years of age, kidnapped and brainwashed. By twelve they had stopped hunting for him. They had never cared for their son, he was as much an orphan as she was. 

 

Yet his lip still trembled, a bead of sweat rolled down the side of his handsome face, and he remained unmoving. 

 

“Kylo!” Rey called out to him, staggering forward, teeth bared. Her saber was alive in her hands, singing to her again, and her pain melted away, “Don’t go this way. Think of what you’ve built, how far you’ve come!”

 

She could hardly bear it, but the moment his fingertips touched Han’s she would be forced to act. She would have to kill him, incapacitate him in the least, though disabling a man as large and powerful as Kylo Ren would be very difficult with blaster fire raining down on her. The sounds of the battle around them had waned, and Rey realized that the fighting had moved on, the insurgents pushed back and into what little remained of the castle. They stood in a field of carrion, birds already swooping down to pick at the remains of the dead.

 

Slowly Ren took a step back, it was hesitant, but when his heel touched the ground Rey knew his decision was made, and the tension fled her body. He raised his saber to eye level, the blade casting his long features in brilliant crimson. 

 

“ _Go_ ,” he snarled, the saber shook in his hand, belying his ferocity, “Go and tell _Leia_ what I am now. Your son is dead.” 

 

It was a pretence, Rey knew, a lie. Ren didn’t care about any message. He couldn’t— or _wouldn’t_ — kill his own father. Ben Solo lived on.

 

Han Solo drew backward and Poe clapped a hand on his shoulder, pushing him towards the _Falcon_. “Come on, we need to leave.” Still, Han stalled. Unwilling to abandon his son. 

 

“Ben—

 

Rey took the moment of distraction as an opportunity and lunged, covering twenty odd feet in a matter of seconds and coming down hard on the droid, it shrieked and Poe shouted, but she was too quick. Her saber missed the droid’s spinning head by just centimeters, but her saber cut through it’s bulbous body like butter, only an inch of melting metal holding its full form together. 

 

Another blaster bolt stuck Rey, this time in the shoulder, but she was ready for it, bracing herself she managed to remain on her feet. Poe shouted and Han grabbed him by his good arm, dragging him into the freighter as Kylo looked on like a helpless child. In that moment he might’ve _been_ a helpless child, seeing his father sending him into a spiral of regression. 

 

“Beebee-ate!” Poe bellowed, struggling against Han’s hold, boots scraping against the steel. 

 

“Leave him!” They were nearly to the door, “We need to go, now!”

 

And then they were in, and the door slid shut. Ren still hadn’t moved. The droid squealed and pled. She knelt beside it and disabled it. All at once its frenzy ceased, and they were left in near quiet, the distant sound of battle eerie against the silence.

 

Rey hissed as she tried to lift BB-8, her shoulder and side throbbing insistently.  
“Kylo.” He didn’t seem to hear her,. He was lost, far away. 

 

The _Falcon_ rumbled to life, and the force of it knocked him off of his feet, he struggled in the dirt as the ship rose into the air and then shot off in a streak of blue, entering hyperspace as they struggled in a field of muck and death. They must have been unrecognizable as royalty; caked in mud, dripping sweat, Rey’s robes torn and Ren’s face drawn tight in anguish. 

 

“Kylo,” she gasped, trying to lift the droid and failing as her wounds throbbed and stung, “Please, I’m injured, I can’t lift this thing alone.” 

 

Finally his attention was caught and he lumbered to his feet, he nudged her away from the defunct BB unit and lifted it on his own. She could see the way his muscles shifted and strained through the sleeves of his tunic. Rey bit her lip and bowed her head to hide the way she flushed. 

 

“You’re hurt?” He mumbled, eyes roving over her, searching for injuries, they lingered on her shoulder, “When—

 

“ _Yes_ ,” She seethed, “I’m injured. You might have noticed when I was shot if you weren't so busy gaping like an _idiot_.” 

 

“I just—

 

“Just…” she interjected, piqued, “Just get that thing back to the ship, we have a lot to discuss.” 

 

Snoke could very well kill him for this infraction, and Rey wasn’t willing to let that happen.

 

As they neared their transport Rey heard it again, a call, soft and wordless, it beckoned her. She shuddered and did her best to shut it out. She didn’t have time to go chasing after whispers.

↤↦

Kylo sat at the foot of his bed, head held in his hands, elbows resting on his knees. He was showered and dressed in fresh clothing, fed and fine in body, as it were. Emotionally he was ailing. He felt sick, deep in the pit of his stomach anxiety had taken hold, and now it manifested through the whole of him, his head pounded and his eyes were shot with blood.

 

He had failed. Han Solo had stood in front of him, vulnerable and trusting, and Kylo Ren had failed to do what he _knew_ was right, what he had been trained to do, _born_ to do. It would have been so easy, one step forward, a saber through the chest, searing flesh, wide eyes and shallow breath; but he hadn’t done it. He had faltered, and now he would pay for it. Rey would expose him before his master and he would be executed swiftly, or worse; he would be shamed publicly and cast down, resorted to nothing by his scheming wife and his merciless teacher.

 

Only Rey seemed as panicked as he. He had felt it in their bond, the distant buzz of distress. They had been separated upon arrival, Rey was rushed off to the medbay while Ren was shown to his quarters and left to his own devices, the droid was taken to who-knows-where. Now he sat and waited. The _Finalizer_ still drifted over Takodana. He wondered what they were waiting for; he had steeled himself, he was ready to face his master, he _needed_ to face his master before his resolve shattered and he was left a quivering mess of tears and paltry pentiance. 

 

He was vaguely aware of Rey through their connection. Her treatment must’ve been complete, she was no longer squirming in pain, instead she was filled with a sense of urgency, and he knew that she would soon be at his— _their_ — door. They shared this quarters now. 

 

He stood and paced, waiting, and within minute she was there. The door slid open and she stormed in. She wore a dark breast band and a pair of exercise pants that, despite their looseness, still managed to accentuate her ass and muscular thighs. 

 

“Why are you dressed like that?” The words were past his lips before he considered their connotation, and he flushed at the tinge of possessiveness they held. The night before had changed many things, previously he might’ve tried to punish her for flaunting herself so brazenly, out of a some sick sense of ownership. Now things were less clear, he felt… _jealous_. 

 

“I’m letting my wounds breathe,” taciturn. They were covered by bacta patches, aerating them hardly mattered, but he remained mum, keeping his qualms to himself. He could see outrage in her eyes. 

 

In two long strides she was in front of him and her hand came fast and hard across his face with a sharp _slap_. He reeled to the side, his own hand raising to cup his stinging cheek, “What—

 

“What the fuck were you doing back there, Ren?” She seethed, “You froze!”

 

He rubbed his cheek and blinked at her dumbly. He didn’t know what to say, what words would pacify this outburst. He had expected cold indifference, perhaps some gloating, but this? 

 

“You hit me.” 

 

She slapped him again.

 

“And you choked me and fucked me raw. This is what we do, _Ren_. We hurt each other.” Her throat was still mottled purple-blue, but her eyes were fierce and sharp. 

 

“But reason be damned, I won’t let Snoke kill you for this.” She slumped down beside him and her fingers caressed his knuckles, “You still think I want your throne, don’t you.” 

 

It wasn’t a question. 

 

He pulled away from her, face twisting in disgust, “And why wouldn’t you? That’s what we do, as vectors of the darkside, we vie and fight and _hurt each other_.”

 

She guffawed, openly _mocking_ him with her laughter, “You’re even more dense than I thought. Did you hear _anything_ I told you last night?”

 

“Lies,” he snarled, “You were _lying_ to me.” His hands curled on the bed, fingers tearing through the linens like talons, “You were trying to seduce me, and you failed.” 

 

“Kylo…” she shook her head and shrunk away, all of the fire fleeing her body. She looked sad. “You’re deluding yourself. Come here.” 

 

“I— 

 

Rey lunged for him, catching his face between her hands. They were small, and her callouses rubbed uncomfortably against his skin. Her touch made him shiver, but he didn’t pull away. She pressed her forehead to his, her skin still grimey from the day’s exertions, and pressed into his mind. 

 

He opened up for her, knowing that resistance would ultimately prove fruitless when she was so blatantly determined. Rey pressed her own memories into his mind, so vivid were the colors and visceral the emotions that they might as well have been his own. A fallen AT-AT, a wall and thousands upon thousands of tallies scratched into its rusted surface. Bloody fingers and swollen eyes. Years spent alone, isolated, shuttled from one planet to the next, no consistency, no family to be spoken of. Just a sad little girl, alone in the galaxy. 

 

Dreams, she showed him dreams, the dreams of a girl, young and fanciful and longing for acceptance, love. Dreams of a dashing young man, clothed in black and silver, strong and valiant and… and nothing like him. 

 

They could have been constructs, expertly crafted deceptions meant to mislead him, to lull him into a false sense of security. But they weren’t, the conviction behind them, the _emotion_ that swelled and brought tears to her eyes, those things were genuine. In consequence, their minds so closely entwined, he was crying too. He hated her for it, but his hands moved unbidden, up from the sheets the caressed along her thighs and settled on her hips, gripping them tightly enough that she might’ve bruised beneath his fingers. But that’s what they did, _they hurt each other_. 

 

Finally, she retracted from his mind, and the barrage of imagery ceased. They sat in silence, heavy breaths rushing forth in tandem, hearts thundering in a near erotic din. 

 

Kylo broke the silence, voice quavering, “What do we do now?” 

 

Snoke would kill him, or worse. Worse was unthinkable, he had seen what his master was capable of, had even found that it occasionally proved useful, but to have those punishments implemented upon himself… he shuddered and Rey’s hands trailed up his forearms, gripping just beneath his elbows. 

 

“We lie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... uhh.. Hey, it's been a while. Funny how this whole life thing works. But I'm back and I'm kicking ass. Expect updates every other week (ish). 
> 
> My friend [Luminoustunes](https://luminoustunes.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr commissioned an amazing piece of artwork for this fic and surprised me with it, take a look at it [here](https://dvrkrey.tumblr.com/post/174578463692/so-this-amazing-piece-by-my-favorite), It was done by my favorite artist [Lilithsaur](http://lilithsaur.tumblr.com/). It's a scene from chapter 7 that is also included in the summary :3
> 
> I know I didn't respond to any comments on the last chapter, and I'm so sorry, I'm going to pick up again on this one. I really do appreciate every single person who takes the time to read this shitstorm of a fic. <3
> 
> Also, the whole comeuppance thing for Kylo; _it's still coming_ , it involves some other characters that have yet to be introduced, that's all I'm going to say.

**Author's Note:**

> My Tumblr: [dvrkrey](https://dvrkrey.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Come say hi, I don't bite, I promise. <3


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